Shades of Us
by underseige
Summary: AU. When Ana left Christian following the belt incident, neither of them realized the next time they saw one another would be a year later at Kate and Elliot's wedding. And nothing in the world could prepare Christian for what he discovers.
1. Chapter 1

Fifty Shades of Grey and the characters belong to EL James.

* * *

Two days ago, my world collapsed around me. Everything I thought I knew, everything I've worked for in my adult life has ceased to mean anything to me. I've lost track of the number of times I've replayed what I've come to consider the worst moment of my life since it happened: the moment the elevator doors closed on my relationship with Anastasia Steele. In hindsight, I should have known this would happen. The signs were there the first night she stayed with me in my apartment that should have told me exactly what would happen. I ignored every alarm bell, every warning presented to me because I enjoyed the way I felt when I was with her. Not just when we were in bed or in the shower or bathtub or the playroom; the times when we argued, the times she challenged me and angered me, made me laugh... We had fun together. I flew across the country to see her and took her soaring, something I've never shared with anybody before.

Every good memory with Ana ends when I recall Saturday morning in the playroom when I was instructing her to count as I hit her with the belt, blocking out her wavering voice and the tears falling from her eyes. I thought I knew what I was doing. I thought _she_ knew what she was doing. I've never been more wrong in my life. The rest of Saturday and all of Sunday is a blur—the only clear memory I have is building the wooden glider Ana left for me on my pillow. Taylor has been keeping closer tabs than usual on me; Mrs. Jones clucking over me like a mother hen; even John Flynn has dropped by the penthouse "just to say hello." The last time he showed up, I glared at him, and retreated back to my office. Two hours later, he was still in the kitchen with Taylor and Gail, and all three of them were talking in hushed voices, presumably about me. I had half a mind to fire all three of them.

Now that Monday has dawned, I'm determined to get my life back on track. I have a lunch appointment at Flynn's office. Jason and Gail are no longer looking me like I'm some helpless child. I even managed to shower, dress, and prepare myself for a day of work. It occurred to me last night that even if Ana is determined to end our relationship—something I don't want to let happen—I can at least keep an eye on her at her first day of work at SIP. The buyout is still under wraps, but when have details like that ever stopped me?

I've come up with a plan of how to get Ana back. Clearly there won't be any Dominant/submissive arrangements for us, not like I'd hoped at least. I should have known she couldn't handle the really heavy shit; she's too innocent, too sweet to have even considered canings and beltings to be an enjoyable experience. She didn't hate all of it, though; some things she really enjoyed, I know. The Thomas Tallis scene will bring a smile to my face for years to come. Or it will if I can somehow manage to get Ana back.

She said she loved me. In all her wide-eyed, sore-assed innocence, she still told me she fell in love with me, even though I am the last person in the world she should feel that way about. And along with her declaration, I've even had moments where I wondered if it was possible that I could eventually return those feelings for her. I once told her I don't have a heart, but if that were true, why am I in this much pain?

Knotting my tie, I try to avoid looking in the mirror. I don't much enjoy surveying myself on a normal day, but today is much worse. After shaving off two days worth of stubble, I was left with a pale complexion and bags beneath my eyes from not sleeping all weekend. My appearance will no doubt draw more attention than normal and while I suspect it would be easier to remain home for several days until I figure out my next move with Ana, I know the key to my success will be regaining control over the situation, even if it is only in tiny doses here and there.

On the ride to Grey House, I check messages I've neglected all weekend and make a few phone calls, all with no more enthusiasm than one would use make up a grocery list. Not that I have much experience in that particular task. We're stopped at a red light and I glance out my window as I list instructions for Andrea, and suddenly I have a brilliant idea.

"Andrea, I'll call you back," I say abruptly, ending the call. "Taylor, pull over."

He looks surprised at the command but pulls up to the curb, turning to look at me questioningly. "Sir?" he says quietly.

I don't reply as I drop my blackberry onto the seat beside me and open my door. "Wait here, please," I say distractedly. I push through people on the sidewalk without a second thought, entering the flower shop. The woman behind the counter immediately makes a beeline for me, practically tripping over herself in her effort to assist me in my purchase. Not that I need the assistance; I already know exactly what I want. "Two dozen long-stemmed, white roses," I inform her when she stammers out a question of what she can help me with. "Delivered to Miss Anastasia Steele this evening."

The woman's expression drops when she realizes I'm probably not purchasing flowers for my mother or sister, and therefore unavailable. I wonder at that for a moment—for years, I've been referred to as Seattle's most eligible bachelor even though half the population, my family included, believed me to be gay. But since Anastasia Steele fell into my world, I can't imagine going back to that. I don't want to be known as available; I want to be taken, owned by a woman. Not just any woman, of course, though in order to make that a reality, it will take patience and caution. Perhaps even hearts and flowers. And I might as well begin now...

"What would you like the card to say, sir?" the clerk says breathily. Normally, that phrase in that particular tone would grab my attention and set off a number of inappropriate thoughts. It doesn't, though, and I know it's because the only woman I want to give my attention is Ana.

I remove a pen from my jacket, taking a blank slip of paper from beside the cash register, debating with myself about what I should say to her.

_I miss you. I'm sorry. Please give me the chance to explain. I'll do anything for you to not end us... _

In the end, I keep it as platonic as I can, congratulating her on her first day of work, thanking her for the glider, and hopefully giving her some idea what her small gift really meant to me. Rather than my typical signature of my full name, I sign it Christian and slide the paper back to the clerk. "I need it to say this exactly," I instruct her, handing her my credit card. "And I'd like confirmation that she received the flowers this evening."

For a moment, she looks insulted that I would dare question her company's ability to deliver flowers, but a simple raised eyebrow causes her to avert her gaze. "Of course," she murmurs, glancing down at my credit card, "Mr. Grey."

With that done, I return to the car where Taylor has waited patiently and probably very curiously for my return. I don't offer an explanation and he doesn't ask for one. "Grey House, please, Taylor."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

It's late evening before I finally get a message from the flower shop, though it's not the one I expected. _"We're sorry, Mr. Grey, but we were unable to make the delivery as the recipient didn't answer our repeated attempts. We will issue you a full refund."_ I couldn't give a flying fuck about a refund; my concern lies with the possible reason for Ana to not answer the door. It could simply be that she wasn't home, but that begs the question of where she actually was and with whom. My first instinct is to call her just to find out whether she's okay, until I remember that she left behind the blackberry, Mac, and iPad I gave her and has yet to forward her calls to her old cell phone. Several times since Saturday, I've stared at the display when Ana received a text message from Kate Kavanagh, missed calls from her mother and stepfather, and a call, voice, and text message from Jose Rodriguez, the boy I should have destroyed that night at the bar for attempting to shove his tongue into Ana's unwilling mouth.

I'm still debating what to do with the information in his messages regarding his gallery opening in Portland. Ana invited me on Friday, though I assume she's since retracted it, despite not informing me. I know she won't have an easy solution for transportation from Seattle to Portland and I'm not particularly fond of the idea of her driving such a long distance on her own after working all day long. Besides, if she goes alone, there is every chance the photographer boy will attempt to pick up where he left off at the bar. That thought alone turns my vision red. I cannot let that happen. She may not want to be with me, but I will always be concerned about her wellbeing and safety, whether she likes it or not, and it would kill me to find out Rodriguez or any other fucker took advantage of her.

No. I think an offer to transport her to Portland for the opening where I can keep an eye on her and perhaps even persuade her to talk to me will be absolutely necessary at this point. I make a mental note to make arrangements in the morning.

My current concern remains focused on why Ana wasn't home to accept the flower delivery. Calling her isn't an option; I'm still getting all her calls on the blackberry. Email is out; she left the MacBook behind. I suppose I could drive past her apartment; perhaps she knew from whom the flowers came and ignored the door on principle. Maddening woman that she is... So why am I grinning at the thought of her stubbornness?

"Taylor!" I bark, leaving my study. My head of security pokes his head out of his office down the hall. "I'd like to drive past Miss Steele's apartment; she didn't receive her delivery today and I want to make sure she's all right." Taylor holds my gaze for a moment as though he might argue; I don't give him that opportunity. "I'll drive myself."

Without another word, I grab my keys, cell, and jacket, and head down to the garage. Suddenly I'm very eager to catch even the briefest glimpse of Miss Anastasia Steele.

* * *

Her apartment is dark. Parked across the street, my eyes are trained on her front windows, searching for any sign of life inside. It's only just after nine o'clock; even if she wasn't home to accept delivery then, she should be back by now. Unless she's with someone. Unless she met some fucker on her very first day of work and went home with him. The steering wheel protests under the white-knuckled grip I have on it as I imagine another man touching her in a way she's only ever allowed me. Like a selfish possessive child, Anastasia Steele is mine and she will only ever be mine.

I need to know she's safe even if she can't stand the sight of me anymore. Not that I could blame her of course.

Glancing around the empty street, I make my decision, getting out of the car and crossing to her apartment. I walk as casually as possible around to the back, locating the fire escape, and begin to climb. I curse my ringing cell phone, ignoring it as I find a window that I can slide open. Reining in my temper at Ana's lack of concern about herself and her safety, I slip into the dark apartment, hoping I don't scare the crap out of her if she stumbles out of her bedroom. Worst case scenario, she'll hit me with a baseball bat or something. All things considered, that would be fitting.

My phone rings again and I silence it as I enter a bedroom. I may have only seen her room a couple times before she moved to Seattle, but none of the things I see look at all familiar—this must be Katherine's room. My lip curls at the sight of the bed, knowing my brother has been there more than once. I slip back down the hall and into another room, stumbling slightly when I kick something on the floor. Reaching over, I turn on a light and promptly freeze at the sight that greets me. Ana's things are strewn haphazardly around the room. Clothes are hanging out of open dresser drawers; her bookshelf is empty; much of the rest of her personal items are either missing or carelessly knocked aside as though the owner hurriedly unpacked, then repacked them distractedly, perhaps even while she was upset...

My heart begins to race as panic as I rush back through the apartment looking for any sign that I'm wrong about the conclusions I'm approaching. And I'm able to convince myself I'm wrong until I arrive in the kitchen and find a note on the counter with Katherine's name written in Ana's handwriting. I read the note slowly with shaking hands, feeling devastation beyond anything I've ever experienced before. I retrieve my phone from my pocket automatically, accepting Taylors tenth attempt to contact me.

"Grey," I say dully.

I hear him sigh on the other end of the line. "Sir, Miss Steele never arrived for her first day of work at SIP. Management attempted to call her, but were unable..."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, realizing this nightmare is a reality. "She's not home, Taylor," I say briskly, glancing back at the note. "Ensure she arrived safely in Savannah with her mother and stepfather. I'll return to Escala shortly."

I can almost hear the pity from Taylor's end of the phone. "Yes, sir."

Ana is gone. Not only did I chase her from my life, but I've chased her out of Seattle, away from the job she'd been so looking forward to, and across the country, and this time there is no doubt in my mind that she's gone there to keep away from me.

* * *

No. No way. This cannot possibly be happening to me right now.

I stare down at the object in my fingers, thinking back to how I got to this point. Promptly, I roll my eyes at the smart mouth response my mind supplies. Of course _that_ is how I got to this point. I just can't seem to understand why the world seems to hate me and refuses to let me live in peace.

It's been nearly three weeks since I left Seattle. In that time, Kate has returned from her vacation in Barbados, found out I wasn't at home where she suspected me, and called to demand answers for my sudden decision to move. I gave her the heavily edited version, though I know she's probably worked out much more about my reasons than I wanted her to do. I'm not sure why I'm surprised; that girl is too smart for her own good. Luckily, my departure hasn't affected her relationship with Elliot Grey. At least one good thing came out of meeting Christian...

_Much more than that came out of it_, my subconscious admonishes. _It might have been a rollercoaster, but it was one you freely rode time and time again. The only reason you're not still there is because you couldn't handle his darkest, most sadistic needs. _

My hand finds my behind where I can almost still feel the sting of the leather belt Christian used on me the day I left him. So often in the last three weeks I've wondered if I might have overreacted. Yes, his needs were beyond what I could give him, because there was no way in hell I would ever let something like _that_ happen again, no matter how in love with him I might be. And I am still in love with him. Somehow I don't think that will ever change. I'll never forget everything he did for me—he brought me out of myself for the first time in my life, showed me there was something in the world aside from books, and taught me what it means to really love and feel.

Those lessons will come in handy, I muse miserably, looking down at the item in my hand—the little white stick that shows thin blue lines in its display window. When I left Seattle, I did everything possible in an attempt to leave Christian Grey behind completely. Unbeknownst to me at the time, that is something that will never happen.


	2. Chapter 2

Nearly a year has come and gone since Ana left me. In that time, I've tried desperately to return to my old life in an attempt to move on from her. Some days, I think I've convinced myself that she was nothing more than a fleeting obsession, a challenge in my otherwise simple existence. I've gone through submissives at an alarming rate and it won't be much longer before I've exhausted Seattle's supply of willing brown-haired girls to beat black and blue. Every person in my life is concerned for me in some way. Taylor hardly leaves my side these days; my parents and siblings have all attempted their own forms of intervention; Flynn has recommended several colleagues to help; and Elena has been beside herself trying to find new girls to keep me interested. None of it works. If I thought I was a miserable bastard before meeting Anastasia Steele, I'm now truly nothing more than a husk of a man walking blindly through life. I underestimated the impact Ana had on me and I fucking hate the thought that the magic she weaved into me during our short time together still holds me prisoner to her.

It's worse today, though. I look across the table where Elliot is watching me warily, clearly uncertain how I'm handling the news he's just given me. I have no idea what it is he wants me to say; it's not as though I would want to diminish the happiness that surrounds him right now. He deserves to be happy. Elliot is a good person, just like Grace and Carrick and Mia. I'm relieved whenever they give me good news about their lives; it means I haven't tarnished them with my unworthiness and darkness.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," I say wryly, setting my wine glass on the table between us. "Congratulations, Elliot. I mean that."

My brother nods. "Thank you, Christian," he says quietly, still watching my reactions closely. "Look, I know Kate isn't your favorite person in the world, but I want you to be my best man. She agrees that you would be the best choice."

"Oh," I say, truly surprised. I swallow hard, honored that he would give me this opportunity. "I don't know what to say. Thank you."

"Well, before you say yes," he goes on slowly, "and I really hope you'll say yes regardless... I should probably tell you who Kate's maid of honor will be."

I gasp in realization of what he's about to tell me and for just a moment, if the surprise in his eyes is anything to go by, my brother sees raw emotion in my expression for the first time in our lives. "Ana?" I ask quietly, my voice steadier than I feel.

"Yeah," he confirms. "Kate nearly asked Mia; she wasn't sure Ana would agree if she knew you'd be there, but..."

"She agreed anyway?" I ask, trying to quell the hope building up in me.

"Grudgingly," Elliot replies, narrowing his eye on me. "What the hell happened with you two, anyway? Before Kate and I left we thought you were completely obsessed with each other, then we come home, Ana is gone, and you're more depressed and angry than I've ever seen you?"

I shrug in answer. What the hell am I supposed to tell him? Ana practically begged me to beat the shit out of her and when I completely let go of my self-control, giving her what she supposedly wanted, she looked at me like I'm a monster, then told me she loved me, but left me anyway, and now I deserve every ounce of pain I feel. "Things were moving too fast for her liking," I lie in a mutter. "Neither of us was ready for a relationship like that."

Technically, that is the truth. She was still so young when we met and I know damn well I overwhelmed her on more than one occasion. And for me... She blindsided me, made me think about something more than my standard relationship with a woman. I wanted to be her boyfriend, to care for her, keep her from harm... to love her. Because in the months following her leaving, I finally began to admit the thing people were tripping over themselves to convince me of: I was in love for the first time in my life, with Anastasia Steele. I've tried to rid myself of such feelings, but it's proved impossible. I am still in love with her and I probably will always be. And now, for the first time in a year, I'll get to see her. I could have the chance to get her back.

First, though, I need to get through the next few weeks before Kate and Elliot's wedding. Interestingly enough, the date they chose is exactly one year to the day when the two of them met, which is also one year to the day since the first time I spent the night with Ana at the Heathman following her night of drinking at the bar, then emptying her stomach in a flower bed. I watched her sleep for hours, fascinated at the innocence of her expression and the feelings blossoming inside me.

"Christian, I'd understand if you'd rather not do this," Elliot says. "I can't imagine how easy it would be being around the first girl you ever loved after she left you..."

Startled as I am at Elliot's words, I shove this aside for the moment. "Have you seen her?" I ask in a whisper. "Ana, I mean..."

Elliot shakes his head apologetically. "No, I haven't. Kate has, though. She's flown out to visit her several times. From what I gather, she seems good, though Kate usually comes home grumbling about what a fucking prick you are."

Can't argue with that... "Of course, I'll be your best man, Elliot," I say, neatly sidestepping the conversation. "I'd be honored."

Elliot beams at me, raising a hand to get our server's attention from across the restaurant and orders another bottle of wine. My lips twist in wry amusement as I recall my offer to cover our lunch expense. Once our glasses are refilled, Elliot reverts to his usual boisterous, sometimes childish personality. "So," he says, clapping his hands and rubbing them together eagerly, "let's talk bachelor parties!"

* * *

"Kate, I'm really not sure about this."

I've been saying these words several times daily since my best friend called to tell me she's getting married and wants me to be her maid of honor. Under normal circumstances, I would have happily agreed without hesitation, but considering her groom is the brother of the man I've spent a year trying to flush from my system... Well, this isn't exactly helping me get over Christian Grey.

"Will you stop complaining already?" Kate says irritably from across the room. "I told you, it's going to be fine. You won't be forced to spend any more time with him than absolutely necessary to get through the weekend and if he doesn't leave you alone, I'll be more than happy to put his balls in a blender like I probably should have done the second I realized what he was putting you through." I look away, fighting the urge to argue with her once again. A moment later, she's sitting beside me and I smile down at the bundle in her arms. "Sweetie, I want you here. I know it's hard for you and I can't say I blame you one bit, but you can't avoid him forever."

"I've been doing a decent enough job before you got engaged," I grumble. With a sigh, I take my son from Kate's arms. Caleb Andrew Steele was born February 20th, and quickly became my sole reason for existing. It took me a while to figure out how to look at him without seeing just how much he resembles his father. It's impossible, though; the curly copper hair on his head is the exact shade of Christian's and I remember with painful clarity just how soft that hair is. Thankfully, Caleb inherited my eyes so I at least have that escape.

Since discovering my pregnancy, I've bounced between whether I should tell Christian he's a father or not. My mother and Kate have both tried to convince me he deserves to know, but every time I think I've made up my mind, my thoughts return to the last day I saw him. That was the day I saw him for exactly what he is and realized no matter what I did, no matter how desperately I wanted otherwise, I could never be enough for him. Adding a child to the mix—something I know terrifies him—wouldn't make things easy for either of us. I chicken out every single time, especially when I remind myself that Christian didn't come after me the way he did during the few days we were apart while I was visiting my mother. If he wanted to see or hear from me, there is no doubt in my mind he would have made contact. And if his stalker tendencies revealed my pregnancy, he obviously wants nothing to do with us.

And that's fine. Caleb and I are doing just fine on our own. I might not be able to provide the sort of life for my son that Christian could, but we manage. I got a job at a small publishing house in Savannah, used the $24,000 Christian gave me for the beetle he demanded I allow him to replace for an apartment and furnishings, and I'm content with my life. I still think about him at every opportunity, usually when I'm lying wide away in bed and staring at the ceiling. I wonder if he's got a new submissive—the thought never fails to make me sick to my stomach every time.

"Ana, your mom is here to watch the baby," Kate reminds me softly. "Even though I think Caleb would look absolutely adorable in a little tux at the wedding, he won't be there. If you're really stuck on not telling Christian, I'm not going to make you. It's just a weekend, sweetie."

_Yeah, and I only knew Christian a few days before he knocked me up_, I add silently. "Okay," I agree reluctantly. "I'll stop complaining."

Kate beams at me. "Good!" She stands up. "Now put that adorable little boy in his playpen so we can go get ready for the rehearsal dinner."

I do as I'm told, lingering a little longer than what Kate wants so I can get my fill of my baby boy. At three months old, he's amazing and perfect and sweet. His smile has the power to turn around even my most depressing days. I can already tell that as he gets older he will be a carbon copy of his father and I both dread and look forward to those days. I may have wanted to cut every tie I have with Christian Grey, but I'd be lying to myself if I said I don't miss him. At least I have Caleb to remind me of those few weeks with Christian.

"I love you, baby boy," I whisper into my son's copper curls. "Behave for Grandma." Resignedly, I set him in the portable crib and force myself to turn away only to find my mother and Kate standing right behind me, watching me with mixed emotions. "What?"

My mother forces a smile onto her face. "Nothing, sweetheart," she lies. "Have a good time tonight. Don't worry about the little man."

Pretty sure that last one isn't possible, but I agree and follow Kate out of the hotel room. In the elevator, my nerves about the evening return. "So who's all going to be there?" I ask quietly, staring at the red numbers that change as we approach the lobby.

"Everyone," Kate says, giving me an apologetic smile. "My parents and Ethan. Elliot's parents and his siblings. We're calling it a rehearsal dinner, but really, it's just all of us eating together at the Mile High Club." She glances at me briefly out of the corner of her eyes. "Christian insisted on paying for the night out—and apparently, he owns the club."

I roll my eyes and feel a smirk tug at my lips. "Of course he does," I say wryly. My curiosity piques. "Do you see him often?"

Kate shrugs. "Often enough. I think Elliot would like to see him more, but he doesn't seem eager to rearrange his schedule for little things like family gatherings." She hesitates. "When Elliot and I got back from Barbados last year, Christian was a mess. I'd only met the guy a couple times and I realized just how badly he was taking your leaving. He asked about you whenever I saw him, wanted to know that you were safe and happy. There were a couple times I almost told him about the baby, but I didn't obviously. Not even Elliot knows. He really never contacted you?"

"Nope," I say, shaking my head as we walk outside to Kate's BMW. "I'm not even sure why I expected him to; it's not like we were together all that long."

"Hey, don't do that," she chides, stopping suddenly before we reach the valet. "You two may have only had a few weeks together, but you can't tell me breaking up with him didn't affect you. Not only that, but you have a kid together." Luckily, she lowers her voice so only I can hear her. "If his reaction is anything to go by, whatever the two of you had together was really special for him—and I know it was the same for you. Don't try to cheapen it by throwing something ridiculous like time into it."

I don't have a response for her. She watches me for a moment, then shakes her head, handing the valet her ticket.

"Come on," she mutters when her car arrives. "If we're early enough, you can see everyone before Mr. Mogul decides to show his face."

* * *

Nervous is not a feeling I'm accustomed to. I don't get nervous. I take control of my surroundings and bend them to my will at all times. Nerves have no place in business; people like me can smell a nervous business associate just like a shark can smell blood from miles away. Much like the shark, we know how to take advantage of that particular emotion. As far as I'm concerned, nerves show weakness and weakness leads to very bad decisions, whether professionally or personally. With that in mind, I adjust my tie and step out of the elevator of the Mile High Club where Kate and Elliot are holding their pre-pre-wedding family dinner. Those were Elliot's words, not mine...

Anyway, the only reason I'm actually bothering to show up is that I'm hoping to catch a glimpse of Miss Anastasia Steele. I have no idea what I'll say to her tonight or any night before the wedding; I'm hoping a bit of reconnaissance might give me a hint on how to handle things. Elliot isn't much help; he's been trying to convince me for weeks that Ana is taking advantage of the "plus one" on her wedding invitation. At first I wanted to beat the shit out of him for even suggesting it. Then I wondered if there was any real truth to his words. It's been a year; surely it's a possibility that in that time, Ana might have met somebody new. I don't want to believe that, but there's always a chance. If she's brought her new boyfriend to the wedding, I'll have to rethink my attendance. Something tells me my family would never forgive me for ruining Kate and Elliot's wedding with a homicide as they recite their vows...

By the time I arrive in the club, my family and the Kavanaghs are already seated and sipping champagne. I scan each face for the one I'm nearly desperate to see and finally find her across the dining room on her cell phone. All the air in my lungs has disappeared; my heart has stopped beating; and I realize a year has done exactly fuck all to heal me from losing her. She looks beautiful, of course, in a long dark blue dress that I know matches her eyes and her hair pulled back from her face. Even from here I can spot the little things about her that seem to have changed in the last year. She's lost weight—I bite back my annoyance; it's not as though she had much to lose to begin with... She looks more world-weary—a side effect of our brief time together, surely... But it's more than that. Something I can't quite put my finger on.

After a few minutes, her call ends and she slides her phone into her purse, returning to the table where she's happily welcomed back by Mia and my mother. I can only imagine what they might be discussing. Rather than joining them, I take a few moments to really drink in the sight of Anastasia Steele and it hits me suddenly what is different about her. It's her breasts. They're bigger than I recall, more lush, and somehow more inviting than they were a year ago. I have no idea what this might signify, but I adjust my pants so as to not draw attention to myself, and decide it's time to have dinner with my family.

* * *

I'm in conversation with Mia about her plans to open a bakery in the next few months when I feel it—my skin prickles, my body goes on high alert, and my heart starts racing. Without even looking, I know the cause and when every person at the table suddenly goes silent, my suspicion is confirmed. Hesitantly, I look up and immediately find a pair of gray eyes looking right back at me. He hasn't changed much in a year—he's obviously been working out. The only real change I notice is what seems to be a permanent sadness etched into his expression. Now that he's here, I have no idea what to do. Do I pretend he doesn't still affect me the way he did when we first met? Do I give him a tight, fake smile and tell him it's good to see him? Does he even want to speak with me?

For several minutes, the entire table is looking between Christian and me as though they're waiting to see how we handle things as a tip on how they should handle it. Christian breaks our gaze first and as though he flipped a switch, everyone returns to their drinks and conversation as though there was no interruption. I'd forgotten he could silence a room like that.

He takes the seat directly across from me and resumes our staring contest. I wasn't ever able to read his expressions with any real success and that hasn't changed at all. I have no clue what's going on behind those stormy gray eyes; it could be anything from anger to joy or something else completely different. Only when Elliot engages him in conversation does he look away from me and I feel oddly bereft. I know how I feel seeing him again: thrilled, lustful, and a little fearful that without even speaking to me, he'll know what I've been up to over the last year and he hates me for it.

"So Ana," Grace says, snapping me back to the current moment, "Kate says you're living in Savannah now. Do you like it?"

I know she's only asking to be polite; she can't possibly be interested in an answer from her son's ex-girlfriend. _Not that you were ever really his girlfriend,_ my subconscious unhelpfully reminds me. _Ex-almost-submissive more like..._ I can still remember the bemusement I felt the night Christian took me to his parents' home for dinner at the look and hug Grace had given me before we left—as though I was the most incredible thing she'd ever seen in her life and she was deeply grateful for me. "Um, yes," I answer when half the table quiets and watches me expectantly. Christian is hanging on my every word, still wearing his inscrutable mask. "I do like it." Christian lifts one eyebrow very slightly and I get the feeling he's amused with my answer, or lack thereof.

"What do you do there, Ana?" Carrick asks kindly.

I shift slightly in my seat, trying to dispel the uneasiness I feel under Christian's stare. "I'm working at a small publishing company," I say, putting much more confidence in my words than I really feel. "The editor I assist is retiring soon and rumor has it, she recommended me to take over for her once she leaves." I smile at the round of polite congratulations aimed towards me, and I can't help but glance at Christian. I'm nearly winded at the look in his eyes now—he looks... proud of me for some reason.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Mia asks eagerly. Several narrowed, admonishing eyes turn towards her, though she doesn't seem to notice. Christian's expression has hardened as he waits for my answer.

"No," I say quietly, looking down at my glass of Diet Coke. I wonder if Christian has noticed I'm not drinking champagne like everyone else... "No, I don't really have much time for dating..." _What with taking care of my newborn son and all..._

Christian relaxes significantly, seemingly pleased at my answer.

"Well, there is that one guy," Kate comments, her eyes shining in mischief. "He's really cute, Mia; you should have Ana show you his picture sometime."

I glare at my best friend, knowing exactly what she's doing. Kate only shrugs before Elliot demands her attention again. Christian suddenly pushes back his chair and stands. "Excuse me a moment," he murmurs. Without looking at me, he walks away from the table.

I turn to Kate. "Are you out of your mind?" I hiss at her. "Did you really have to do that?"

"No," Kate concedes, grinning, "but how could I resist the opportunity to wind up Mr. Always-In-Control."

Rolling my eyes at her, I look away in time for our dinners to arrive. Christian doesn't return for nearly ten minutes and when he does, he avoids my gaze completely. _I knew this would be a really bad idea. Damn Kate and her big mouth..._

I decide the only way to survive this dinner is to pretend Christian isn't even here—easier said than done—and I have to start now.

* * *

This is a fucking disaster. I thought I could handle seeing her, control every emotion I feel for her, and walk away without regretting a single second. That went straight down the fucking toilet the moment she opened her mouth to speak. If I'd been smart, I would have done a bit of research before arriving tonight—I should have searched for anything that might catch me off-guard. But no; I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't run any sort of background checks on her. Doing so would only trigger the obsession I've worked so hard to bury since last year.

I know goddamn well Kate was trying to get under my skin when she started talking about "that one really cute guy" Ana is apparently seeing. Judging by the annoyance on her face that was not something she wished to share. I don't think there's much, if any, truth in the matter, but regardless, I made a quick phone call to find out whether she is seeing anybody. Welch didn't find any evidence of a boyfriend in Ana's life and I hung up before he could finish what may have been an urgent piece of information. I'm not currently interested in anything aside from whether she is seeing anybody and since she apparently isn't, I could return to dinner with my family without wanting to put a fist through something.

All throughout the meal, even when someone stood to raise a toast to Kate and Elliot, I could feel her eyes on me and it was a struggle not to look back at her. I knew if I did I might be unable to resist dragging her to the nearest room with a lockable door and fucking her senseless. Hell, I'd probably settle for bending her over the table, though something tells me the others might protest to such behavior.

It's not until after dessert that I have a chance to talk to her privately. My parents and Kate's parents decide to call it a night, leaving the rest of us to enjoy the evening. Everyone but Ana heads into the new extension of the club that opened a few months ago as a nightclub. Unlike most clubs in the area, this one is very selective, catering to the higher society. Kate and Elliot, and Mia and Ethan head out to dance while Ana slips away towards the bar for a drink. Naturally, I follow her.

I'm a little surprised to find she settles for soda rather than a cocktail, though it's probably a good thing; I know from experience her tolerance for alcohol is very low. She turns away from the bar and her eyes widen when she spots me. I try for a comforting, encouraging smile, but I probably fail miserably. "Hello, Anastasia," I say softly, fighting the urge to touch her in some way. "It's been a while."

She swallows hard, her eyes darting all around us in search of someone who might save her from a conversation with me. "Hi, Christian," she eventually says, biting her lip nervously. I feel my eyes widen a touch and my pants tighten; I'm unable to hold back a groan as a flood of memories washes over me. She gasps in realization of her actions, blushing deeply.

I smirk inwardly. "I wondered if we could talk?" I ask cautiously.

Despite her obvious nerves, she manages a nod and I hold out a hand, gesturing for her to grab one of the empty booths so we can sit. I slide in beside her, turning my body to face her. Now that I have her alone, I have no idea what to say to her; luckily I'm not the only one struggling. I take a deep breath and release it slowly before speaking. "How are you?" I ask quietly.

Dozens of emotions pass through her eyes at the simple question—all of which accelerate my heart rate. She shrugs, looking into her glass. "I'm good," she replies. I don't think I've ever heard such a blatant lie from anybody. "How are you?"

"If I said I'm good as well, I'd be lying," I answer. "To be honest, I haven't been good for about a year or so now..." I wait until realization strikes; she looks regretful and sad. I know the feeling well. "I miss you, Ana."

We're both surprised at my words—I didn't actually intend to say them out loud, however true they might be. "I miss you, too," she murmurs. It's my turn to gasp in surprise.

"Why did you leave?" I ask suddenly, needing to know.

Her eyes widen and she looks uneasy as she thinks about my question. "I couldn't stay," she whispers sadly. "Too much reminded me of you." She takes a deep, fortifying breath as though she's about to say something life-changing. I can't imagine what that might be. "I was only going to stay in Savannah temporarily until I could straighten out my mind, but then..."

She trails off, closing her eyes slowly and shaking her head. I want to ask her what's wrong until she takes out her cell phone, glancing at the display. She sighs, looking at me apologetically. "I need to take this," she says quietly. "Just a moment."

I nod, sliding out of the booth to let her out. I'm unable to refrain from grasping her elbow to help her stand and the moment our skin touches, a jolt of electricity passes from me to her and back again. We stare wide-eyed at each other for a moment, each of us surprised at the familiar feeling that hasn't gone away in the last year. I drop her elbow and she silently walks towards a quieter part of the club to take her call, leaving me to watch her every move.

How is it possible that just a few hours ago I was trapped in the darkest abyss without her and now I feel more alive than I have in a year? Will I ever understand the power she holds over me? Part of me hopes not; I enjoy trying to figure out what I'll do next just to see her smile or laugh. And now I know she feels at least a fraction of the pain I've gone through since she left.

I blink rapidly as she returns to me and I'm about to suggest we head out and get a cup of coffee or something so we can talk privately without having to yell over bone-shaking bass lines from the music being played. She speaks first. "Christian, I'm sorry," she says, sounding sincere even through the worry in her eyes. "I have to go."

"Is something wrong?" I ask, running through a list of things I might be able to do to help her.

"Sort of," she says evasively, grabbing her purse. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Ana, wait!" I call as she walks away. She pauses for a moment and I see her shoulders tense. "Let me give you a ride, at least. Are you staying in a hotel?"

She looks panicked all of a sudden. "Um, really, Christian," she says urgently. "It's fine. You should stay with the others; I can get a taxi."

I want to argue, to tell her I don't give a shit about the others. The only reason I didn't leave with my parents is because she's here. Her expression is pleading with me to just let this go and let her find her own way back to her hotel to take care of whatever emergency has risen. I nod stiffly. "Be safe," I tell her sternly, taking my chances on leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her cheek. I bite back a groan—I'd somehow forgotten how soft her skin is and how intoxicating I find her scent. "That is not a request, Miss Steele."

She's surprised at the kiss and I think she smiles at my directive before she turns around to leave. I watch her until she disappears from my sight, then retrieve my blackberry to send a message to Taylor. He'll see to it that Ana gets wherever she's going safely whether she wants my help or not.


	3. Chapter 3

Taylor parks curbside and immediately jumps out the driver's door in order to reach me before I can open my own door. I manage a tight smile which he returns with something akin to amusement. The moment I walked out the door of the club, he was waiting beside a familiar black Audi SUV and refused to hear me when I told him I could get back on my own. No doubt he did this under orders from Christian; how could I have possibly forgotten that his control-freakishness knows no bounds? In the end, I decided it was easier to just accept the ride; I had other things to worry about, anyway.

"Thank you for the ride, Taylor," I say gratefully.

I swear he actually winks at me. "My pleasure, Miss Steele," he says, nodding respectively. "Have a good evening."

On the way up to my room, I think about what just happened at the club with Christian—what I very nearly blurted out for no other reason than his beseeching gaze had me under his spell yet again. My mother's timing was phenomenal; telling Christian he's a father in the middle of a loud, crowded nightclub isn't exactly how I pictured that conversation going. It's not that I don't want to tell him, but more that I worry about his response. I don't want to tell him only to have him feel obligated to do something for us. That wouldn't do any of us any favors.

_This is the best chance you've had in a year to tell him_, my subconscious comments. _Don't let it pass you by..._

I take that advice to heart, knowing that telling him is the right thing to do. He may resent me, even hate me, but he deserves to know he has a son, and our son deserves to have his father know he exists.

I suddenly ache for the pre-Christian Grey days when my biggest concern was final exams and finding a job in Seattle after graduation. I'd been so oblivious to everything around me before I met him and though it was a lonely existence at times, but I didn't have to wonder how to handle things like this...

Upon entering my room, I know immediately why my mother called me back. Caleb is screaming bloody murder and she is trying and failing to console him. I cross the room and take my son from her; his cries taper off until his little body stops heaving as he relaxes.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," my mom says. "I tried everything, but he just wouldn't calm down."

My mercurial little boy, I muse, looking down at his blue eyes and toothless smile. So much like his father... This thought wipes the smile from my face as I sit on the couch, rearrange my dress, and wait for him to latch on. "It's okay, Mom, really," I say. "I was thinking about leaving anyway."

She takes a seat across from us and eyes me carefully. "How'd it go?" she asks quietly.

I sigh. I'm still trying to figure that out myself. "It could have been worse, I suppose." I hesitate, focusing on Caleb. "I nearly told him. The words were on my tongue; I had Caleb's picture in my purse."

"But you didn't tell him."

I shake my head. "No. You called as I was taking a breath to tell him," I say with a wry smile. "And it's probably better that way. Of all the possible scenarios where I tell him, none of them occurred at a bar in a nightclub, however upscale the nightclub might be."

My mother smiles sympathetically. "Fair enough," she concedes. "Aside from Caleb, how do you feel about seeing Christian?"

"It was... nice," I answer, immediately smirking as I recall the last time I used the word "nice" in description of Christian Grey. "The attraction is still there—for both of us, I think. I don't think I've let myself understand how much I've missed him." It was almost as though our relationship from last year had been paused when I left and restarted the moment our eyes met this evening. "I want to tell him. This weekend. I just don't know how he'll take it."

"This is one of those things that is worth the risk, Ana," my mother says gently, trying to avoid sounding like she's lecturing me. "If you don't tell Christian and if you keep being afraid of his reaction, what will you tell your son when he's old enough to start asking questions about his father?"

I shake my head. "I don't know," I admit in a whisper. Caleb has finished feeding and I watch his eyes close as I sit back on the couch and fixing my dress. Over the last year, I haven't spent much time filling in the gaps of exactly what happened between Christian and me to my mother. There is no doubt in my mind that if she knew the real reason I left him in the first place, she wouldn't be championing for me to tell him. And in that same vein, while I think Christian would be a fabulous father if given the opportunity, I do still worry about his lifestyle. I'm not sure it's something to raise a kid in and if he's still contracting subs...

I shiver, refusing to let myself think about it anymore. "I'll figure it out," I whisper, more to myself and Caleb than to my mother. "I promise I'll figure it out."

Smiling sadly, my mother stands, crossing the room to kiss my head, then her grandson's. "I know you will, baby girl. In the meantime, you two get some sleep. If you don't mind, I think Caleb and I might make a trip out to Montesano to see Ray tomorrow."

"Of course," I agree immediately. "Just remember to take the bottles of breast milk."

With a wink, my mother retreats into her room, leaving me with quality time with my boy and musing about the current state of my life. Never in a million years did I ever imagine I'd be a young single mother with a newborn baby. I'd always been so determined to not follow in my mother's footsteps in that regard. She always told me she wanted me to go to college, get a job, and enjoy life before I settled down and started a family. It's not that I regret having Caleb—I could never do that—but there are days I wish things were a little different, that he waited to come along for a few years. This is a stressful twenty-four hour job and the only time I get help is when my mother and Bob offer to watch him for an evening so I can have some time for myself. I know it will only get more demanding as time goes on and I desperately wish I had someone to share it with. As it is, I'm the only witness for all of Caleb's first as they come along—the first time I laid eyes on him at the hospital; the day I brought him home to my apartment; the first time he slept through the entire night. I'll be the only one to hear his first word, see him take his first step...

_It doesn't have to be that way_, my subconscious tells me, sounding uncharacteristically gentle. _And you'll only know how things might turn out if you tell Christian about his son._

I startle at the soft knock on the door. Luckily, once Caleb is asleep, not much can wake him, even his overly jumpy mother. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I assume Kate finally received the text message I sent her when I bailed tonight. "Coming," I call towards the door, detouring to put Caleb down again. I probably should have realized something was off when I didn't hear the knocking for a second time—Kate is impatient at the best of times and will continue knocking on a door until it's fully opened. But I'm tired and strung out emotionally, and my brain isn't working on full capacity, so when the door is open and I find myself looking right at Christian Grey, the only thing I'm able to do is gape at him.

"Hi, Ana," he whispers with an uncertain smile on his lips.

"What are you doing here?" I blurt.

He raises an eyebrow. "I wanted to ensure you're okay after the way you left the club. I was worried about you," he says softly.

I swallow the emotion trying to push its way up through my body. "Oh," I say dumbly. "Well, thank you for your concern, but I'm fine."

For the first time all evening, I see him as the man I first met when I interviewed him for the student paper. He raises an eyebrow at me, looking exasperated. "Ana, don't do this," he says quietly, shaking his head slightly. "You know fucking well why I'm here; I want to talk to you. I have been waiting to talk to you for a year; don't think for a moment I have any intention of letting you slip through my fingers again without even speaking to me."

For the record, I didn't think that for even a moment... "Christian, I would like to talk to you—there are some things you need to know—but right now isn't the best time..."

He looks confused and the second he opens his mouth to speak, Caleb wakes and begins to cry. I feel the blood drain from my body as I watch Christian's eyes widen. "What's that?" he asks suspiciously.

I can't find any words to form a response, not even one that asks him to just leave and I'll call him tomorrow. Caleb's cries grow more urgent and if I don't do something soon, he'll wake my mother. Considering Christian's position in the doorframe, one foot out to stop me from slamming the door in his face, I know he's not going to just walk away. Resigned, I turn away from Christian and rush to pick up my son, knowing full well he's going to follow me. Nothing I can do about it now...

"Hey, baby boy," I murmur as I pick him up. "Why the tears?"

Christian gasps behind me and I do my best to ignore it for the moment as I calm my son down again. It's a full five minutes before he allows me to put him back to bed and I finally turn to face Christian. There is no way I can categorize the expression on his face right now—it's anger, confusion, fear, longing, and understanding all rolled into one. His eyes are locked on Caleb, not missing the slightest detail about him. Eventually he manages to look at me again, his jaw tense. That is definitely anger. "Something you wish to tell me, Miss Steele?" he asks darkly. It's the tone I recall him using the couple times in his playroom. It still sets my blood on fire.

_Focus, Steele! _"Christian, I..." Now that we're about to have this conversation, I realize I have no idea how to complete my sentence.

"Is he mine?" he asks quietly, his expression remaining expertly blank.

I manage a nod and watch his eyes close tightly as though he's in pain. When he opens them again, he fists his hair and turns away from me, but not before I see the wild look in his eyes, a sign that he's about to lose his precious control.

"FUCK!" he exclaims, spinning around to face me again. "Ana, please tell me this isn't happening."

I feel tears building up in my eyes—on the spectrum of how I thought he would take the news of being a father, this is on the other end than the one I'd hoped for. "Christian, please..." I plead.

"Please what?" he snarls. "Please let you explain why, after a year of not seeing or hearing from you at all, you come here with a _kid?_ Yes, please, Anastasia, explain away."

I'm speechless. This was what I was so afraid of—his temper. The longer I fight to come up with a response, the more impatient he becomes before throwing his hands up. He glances once more in Caleb's direction, his cold eyes darting back to me for a fraction of a second. "Fuck this," he mutters, turning on his heel and stomping out of the room.

Frozen to the spot, it takes me nearly five minutes to realize I'm curled up on the floor and my mother has her arms around me, rocking me back and forth, shushing me as I cry.

* * *

_FUCK!_

Of all the things I thought might happen when I visited Ana tonight, this wasn't even close to being in the realm of possibility. I suppose it goes a long way to explain some of her behavior last year, but what I can't seem to grasp is why I'm just now finding out about this.

A child.

I can barely think through the haze of confusion, anger, and the hint of betrayal that's peeking through. How can a person hide a secret like this from somebody else?

A copper-haired child.

At any point in the last year, she could have called me, emailed me to tell me about this, and she did nothing.

A copper-haired child with Ana's blue eyes.

I have a son.

Just thinking the words make my legs weak. I'm far from stupid; I never would have made it this far in my life otherwise. But even with all my intelligence, I can't figure out _how_ this is possible. I used a condom with her every time until we were in Georgia and she was starting her birth control pills. Again, I'm no fool; I know condoms aren't 100% reliable, but I've never had this happen to me. To be honest, if this was something that would happen, I'd expect Elliot to be one going through it.

Obviously a condom failed at some point—when? The child couldn't be more than three or four months old and counting back doesn't give me much in way of an answer. Since the first time she knowingly spent the night with me, we were at it like rabbits some days and the time period is brief—only a few weeks or so between the first time we met and the moment I watched her walk out of my life. I slump against the elevator wall as it takes me down to the lobby. All the fight has left my body and I am clueless about how I should proceed. A part of me feels guilty for leaving Ana the way I did when the entire reason for me coming here was to spend time with her, talk to her even if nothing more happened between us.

Taylor jumps from his seat in the car in a rush to open my door for me and he actually stumbles slightly as he takes in my expression. "Everything alright, sir?" he asks tentatively.

"No," I answer curtly. "Get Welch on the phone. I want medical records pulled for Anastasia Steele sometime between three and four months ago. I assume the hospital will be in Savannah, but if not, expand the search."

Taylor's brow furrows. "Yes, sir," he says hesitantly. "I'll get right on it."

On the drive back to Escala, I tune out Taylor's conversation with Welch and instead stare out into the dark night. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Ana clearly had her reasons for not telling me about the child, but now that I know, does she expect me to be in their lives or leave them alone? Which option would I prefer?

It shocks me that I'm actually weighing both equally carefully. Am I really considering the possibility of accepting this situation with open arms? If it were any other woman, I would know the unequivocal answer; but this isn't any other woman. This is Anastasia, the girl who has haunted my thoughts for a year. I told her once I would take her however I could get her and I'm finding that philosophy still holds true. If I want to be with Ana, of course I will have to accept the child—_our child _—despite how terrified I am at the prospect of being a father.

On the other hand, what the fuck do I know about being a father? My hobbies include whipping brown-haired girls when the mood strikes me; not exactly a family activity, is it?

_But when was the last time you had a sub?_ my mind asks me. _Do you even remember her name?_

I struggle to recall the answers—it's going on four months, give or take a few weeks, and her name was... My brow furrows. Shit. Sally? Lisa? Allison? Yeah, I have no idea, which only proves how futile my attempts to rid my system of Ana in the first place had been.

What I have to decide right here, right now is how badly I want Ana back in my life. Am I ready to cede enough of my control in order to raise a child?

What the fuck am I thinking? The only thing I'm ready for right this second is several glasses of hard liquor to keep me from doing something really stupid tonight. Given the shock I just received, I think I'm entitled to a little numbness for awhile...

* * *

If it wasn't for the fact that Kate would hunt me down and rip me apart with her bare hands, I would have packed my belongings and left on the first flight out of Seattle this morning. I've had to keep reminding myself I'm here for her and her big day; that's the only thing that should be important right now.

But of course it's not. I spent what was left of the night replaying Christian's reaction in my mind and realizing I've fucked up. I should have told him the minute I found out I was pregnant. So why didn't I? The list of answers to that question is endless and range from uncertainty about keeping the baby in the very beginning to not wanting his negative reaction to affect me and our son. It's my job to protect Caleb from the world and that includes a father who may not want a thing to do with him. More than once I thought about how it would be so easy to ask Christian for child support—it's not like his checkbook is hurting—but I've always dismissed the idea. If Christian really wants nothing to do with us, then I'll find a way forward without him just as my mom did with me. I may not have had the best upbringing possible, but it was the best she could provide and I'm beyond grateful to her for that.

I told her as much this morning as I helped her pack Caleb in the car she rented for the daytrip to Montesano and Ray, and in return, she told me how proud she is of me and that if Christian doesn't want us, it's his loss. He's the one who will live out his life without knowing what he missed out on, without seeing his son grow up. I may not know Christian Grey as well as I hoped I would when we first met, but I know him well enough that as the years go on, he will have several regrets and the biggest one will be not knowing Caleb.

What a mess...

"Ana! Over here!"

I blink rapidly as I enter the restaurant overlooking the Puget Sound where I'm meeting the wedding party for breakfast. I groan out loud, wishing I'd thought to ask the cab driver to stop at a Starbucks on the way here; Mia is way too bubbly this morning... "Hi, everyone," I murmur, taking my seat beside Kate. I notice immediately Christian isn't here.

"Ana, you haven't seen Christian, have you?" Elliot asks, leaning across his fiancée to ask the question, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Kate rolls her eyes and slaps him lightly on the head. "Ow..." He rubs the spot, but won't be deterred. "He said he was coming to see you last night and we haven't heard anything from him since he left the club."

Kate looks at me questioningly. Apparently Christian's late night visit to my hotel is news to her. "Christian came to see you?" she whispers excitedly.

I avert my gaze, grabbing the virgin mimosa Kate ordered for me. "Yes," I answer. "But he didn't stay long." I hold her eyes, hoping to convey the message that I'd rather not talk about it in front of everyone else. She smiles sympathetically, rubs my shoulder, and goes back to teasing her fiancé. Looking for a distraction, I let my eyes travel around the table, surprised to find Mia and Ethan huddled close together. I remember Kate mentioning a while ago that the pair of them met at some benefit thrown by the Greys. They're cute together, though, and I'm happy to see it. I try not to linger on the thought that if Christian and I hadn't gotten together, not only would Mia and Ethan not have met, but Kate and Elliot wouldn't be getting married this weekend.

_Two out of three ain't bad..._

The only people at this table who know what the last year has been like for me are Kate and Ethan. Kate for obvious reasons, Ethan because he tagged along with Kate when she came to visit me towards the end of my pregnancy. To say he was shocked is an understatement, but he promised not to tell anybody. Since Mia hasn't pounced on me, demanding pictures of her nephew, I assume he's followed through on that promise. He catches my eyes from across the table and gives me a reassuring wink and smile that I actually return genuinely.

"Holy shit, is he hung over?"

I turn towards Elliot when he speaks, then follow his gaze, knowing exactly who I will find approaching us. I've never seen Christian drink more than a few glasses of wine in the time we were together and I recall very clearly his opinion on my drinking habits, so seeing him now wearing sunglasses, old jeans, a white linen shirt, and an unshaven jaw is a new sight for me. And a hot one. Really, really hot. The man should be illegal in all fifty states looking like that...

Mia and Elliot are openly staring at their brother and I get the impression this is something even they don't often see. "What the hell, bro?" Elliot asks as Christian takes the chair beside him.

"Sorry," Christian murmurs, removing his sunglasses. "I didn't get much sleep last night..." His eyes dart to mine and I gasp at the emotion I see. It's as though he's silently pleading for me to forgive him for his behavior last night. I give him a tight smile that he tries to return and we both turn away at the same time for different conversations.

* * *

When I woke up this morning, I had the worst headache of my life. I didn't immediately remember what got me into this state to begin with. It wasn't until I was in the shower hoping to scrub the misery from my body that I remembered a dream I had last night that still leaves me shaken and uncertain.

In the dream, I watched from a distance as a small boy with unruly copper-colored hair ran through a meadow of flowers shrieking and laughing happily. I started chasing the boy around at his urging to play with him and at some point, I found myself on a picnic blanket next to a very pregnant Anastasia who looked between me and the little boy with an expression that was nothing short of euphoria and the longer I dreamed, the more I began to feel the same. It felt right when so much of my life hasn't and I don't particularly want to give up that image or feeling. I have a lot to make up for and if I don't start soon, I stand to lose more than I ever thought possible.

* * *

Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far! I'm glad people seem to be enjoying so far. I'll try to update as often as I can! Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

This whole wedding thing is really starting to get on my nerves. Every time I've attempted to get Ana on her own today, either Kate drags her off for something or Elliot needs my help picking out which socks to wear with his tux. And in a few hours, the girls are going off to do whatever Kate's bachelorette party entails while the men board _The Grace_ for an evening of debauchery at sea. I have no idea how I let Elliot convince me to use my boat for his bachelor party, but I think he probably waited until a day when I was particularly depressed and tired to pounce. I wonder if Kate would mind terribly if we threw her fiancé overboard tonight...

I look up from my conversation with Elliot, during which I've had to refuse the hiring of strippers on my boat at least a dozen times, and find Katherine Kavanagh approaching us at a rapid pace looking angry. "Uh oh," Elliot mutters. "Think she heard me talking about those girls who shoot the ping pong balls from—"

"Grey, I need to talk to you," Kate says firmly. To our surprise, she's glaring at me rather than Elliot. A glance past her shows Ana rushing to join us as well and I know exactly what it is I've done to earn Kate's ire.

"Of course," I agree readily. Maybe this is my way of punishing myself for last night, but I almost welcome whatever she has to say to me. I stand up as Ana reaches us, opening her mouth to no doubt tell Kate to calm down. I touch her shoulder and give her a reassuring look. "It's fine, Ana," I say softly. "Really."

She looks skeptical, but nods at us, and I follow Kate down towards the boat dock. I can feel Ana's concerned gaze on me as well as Elliot's confused one, but I focus on this moment. "What can I do for you, Miss Kavanagh?"

Her arms are crossed as though she's trying to keep herself from reaching out and slapping me. "You know exactly what this is about," she says coldly. "What the fuck?"

I sigh. My late night of drinking and the aftereffects—particularly the migraine—have left my temper and patience frayed and I'm fighting not to tell her it's none of her fucking business. "Normally, I wouldn't be having this conversation with you or anybody else—this is between Anastasia and myself—but considering your wedding is only hours away and I don't want my brother upset because his bride is pissed off at me, we will have this conversation one time and you will never bring it up to me again." For good measure, I let her see a bit of my alter ego Dom personality—it works; she blinks uncertainly several times and her shoulders drop as she loses some of her steam. I run my hands through my hair, glancing out onto the water. "I realize my behavior last night was inappropriate. My only excuse is that it's not every day a man discovers he has a child with a woman he hasn't seen in a year. Of all the things I envisioned when I went to talk to Anastasia, that didn't even make the list."

Kate actually looks at me in sympathy. "I understand that," she says quietly, "but you have to realize that she's been terrified about coming to you with this. She knew you'd be angry and she was afraid you'd accuse her of getting pregnant on purpose to trap you or something. The last thing she's wanted is to make you feel obligated towards them."

The words hit me as though I've been slapped. "Obligated?" I repeat hoarsely. It's the only one of Kate's points that I'm able to respond to at the moment. "Of course I'm obligated; that's my child."

Kate shakes her head, rolling her eyes. "Please don't start telling me how happy you are to find out you've got a kid," she warns. "We all know it would be a lie."

I glower at Kate. "Don't you fucking dare try to tell him you know how I'll act in this situation," I growl. "You don't even fucking know me."

"No, but Elliot does," she responds steadily. "And my understanding is that you never dated before Ana. You need control over every aspect of your life and if you lose it, it takes you twice as long to regain it." She pauses, her gaze on me scrutinizing. "How would you have reacted if Ana had come to you after finding out about the baby?" Her tone is curious and a little threatening.

Sighing, I lean against the railing overlooking the Sound. "I don't know," I say softly. It's something I've thought about almost non-stop since last night and I still don't have a firm answer. As much as it disgusts me, all things considered, there is every possibility I would have demanded Anastasia terminate the pregnancy. Children have never been an option in my life or my lifestyle and the truth of the matter is that I wouldn't want to taint an innocent child with my fucked up ways only to have the child grow up to be exactly like me.

I recall my dream last night and how content I'd felt upon waking from it. Could I manage to be a decent father regardless of my past? I don't doubt that if I accept this situation as it is Ana would not let me fail. She's probably a natural mother—she always concerned herself with the well-being and happiness of other more than her own. It's already been proven that she has a positive effect on me and has the power to change my outlook on everything; could she do the same thing in this situation?

Kate sighs. "I'm not going to tell you how to handle this," she says quietly. "You're right; it's between you and Ana. What I will do however is give you one and only one warning: If you make yourself part of their lives, you'd better go in full steam. Ana's been through enough and I really don't think she could handle another broken heart. So think carefully, Grey, because if you hurt her again, your balls will be thrown in a blender. Clear?"

I almost smile at the obvious protectiveness Kate feels towards Ana; it's an insight to how I feel at the thought of somebody else hurting her in any way. "Clear," I agree.

Kate nods once and walks away, leaving me with a clear line of sight of Ana who is watching me unabashedly. Swallowing hard, I move towards her and she straightens up, wrapping her arms around herself in protection. "Hi," I say softly, keeping a few feet between us.

"Hi," she repeats. Her eyes dart towards Kate briefly. "I'm sorry about that. She has a way of getting information from me even when I don't feel like sharing."

My lips twitch slightly. "It's fine," I assure her. "She didn't say anything I haven't thought about a million times since last night." I sigh, hesitating. "And speaking of... Ana, I'm sorry about what happened. To say it was a shock would be a grand and gross understatement, but that doesn't excuse my behavior. You and I have much to discuss, but unfortunately, I'm not sure it's going to happen before the wedding tomorrow. How long are you in town?"

She blinks several times in surprise at my quick turn in the conversation. "Um, we leave Monday morning," she says quietly.

I sigh in disappointment; I'd hoped we would have more time together. "Okay," I say slowly, thinking through our options. "How about we get together tomorrow evening after the reception? We can head to the penthouse if you'd like..." I trail off at the widening of her eyes that I interpret as panic at the suggestion. "Or... we can go to your hotel..."

She relaxes. "I'd rather the hotel," she says, avoiding my eyes.

"Hotel it is," I say softly, giving into the urge to reach out to tuck a few errant strands of hair behind her ear. I grin when her eyes widen and her breath stalls. "Breathe, Anastasia..."

Nodding, she opens her mouth to speak, but Kate calls for her to join the other girls—apparently it's time for the parties. Ana rolls her eyes at her friend and I stuff my hands in my pockets to still my twitchy palms. She turns back to me, glancing down at her purse before digging inside it for something. I freeze when she hands me a photo. "It's from the day Caleb was born," she says softly. "I thought you might like it..." Her tone is uncertain; does she expect me to decline the photo?

I nod slowly, studying every detail of what I'm seeing. Ana is lying on a hospital bed looking exhausted but beautiful as she looks down at her chest where a tiny baby is curled up against her. I've never been the type to melt over baby pictures, but this one actually brings tears to my eyes. "Thank you," I whisper hoarsely, unable to tear my eyes from the image. I can almost see myself sitting beside her on that bed, staring down in awe at the child we created. "I can't tell you what this means to me." Without hesitation, I lean down and press my lips against hers. She gasps in surprise at the kiss, allowing me to deepen it. Before I know it, her hands are in my hair, I've pressed her into the railing, and we're kissing at a frantic pace. I manage to rip myself away from her and stumble back a few feet, looking at her dazed expression and knowing I have a similar look. "You should probably go..." _Even though the last thing I want is to watch you leave me behind again..._

When she regains use of her muscles, she nods, hiking her purse onto her shoulder. "Right," she says, her voice high-pitched. "Um, see you later, then."

I smirk, unable to hold back my next words. "Laters, baby."

* * *

"Ana... Earth to Ana..."

I blink rapidly as Kate waves her hand in front of my face. Unsurprisingly, my mind is stuck on Christian and the kiss we shared before leaving. Somehow, I'd almost forgotten how skilled a kisser he is and how easily he can turn my insides into a puddle of goo. If we weren't forced to go our separate ways, I don't doubt it would have gone far beyond just a kiss and I know neither of us is ready for that—there is too much unsaid between us and a very long discussion must be had before anything else happens.

"Sorry," I mutter, turning towards Kate. We're sitting at a booth inside another nightclub waiting for a tray of drinks arrive before everyone heads out onto the dance floor. "I'm a little distracted."

Kate snorts a laugh. "Can't imagine why," she says wryly. "I don't even really like the guy and that kiss got me hot and bothered."

"Okay, need I remind all of you that we're talking about my brother?" Mia says urgently.

Kate apologizes unconvincingly. "I take it things went better today than they did last night?" she teases knowingly.

"To say the least," I murmur, blushing. "He wants us to talk tomorrow after the wedding reception."

"Good," Kate says, eyeing the approaching tray of alcohol eagerly. "It's about fucking time."

"About time for what?" Mia asks curiously, taking a fruity cocktail from the middle of the table.

My eyes widen as I try to come up with something to tell her—I'm not quite ready to tell her about Caleb. Luckily, Kate comes to my rescue. "About time for them to talk about their break-up," she lies smoothly. Though technically, there are elements of truth in her words...

Mia accepts the explanation with a nod and drains her drink. "Are we really going to sit here all night or have some fun?" she demands. Without waiting for our response, she slides out of the booth and joins the other members of the bridal party—two women Kate works with—and they rush down to the dance floor.

"That girl is trouble," Kate says, amused. "Adorable, but trouble."

I nod my agreement, taking a sip of my non-alcoholic beverage.

"You seem happier now than you were this morning," Kate ventures.

"That's because I am happier," I tell her. "This might not be the ideal situation, but I think he's willing to hear me out."

"He better be willing," she says bluntly.

I narrow my eyes at her. "What did you say to him?" As if I don't know... I'm thinking there was a threat of testicles being ripped off and put into either a blender or vice.

Kate just shrugs. "Doesn't matter what I said to him. It needed to be said and if he's smart, he'll do the right thing." She drains her drink. "Come on, Steele, let's dance."

I roll my eyes and finish my soda and follow her. As we approach the dance floor, I check my phone for the thirtieth time since we arrived here for any messages from my mother. She decided to extend her stay in Montesano to give Ray some more time with Caleb and I'm anxious. I've never been away from him for more than a few hours a day and never overnight. I almost want to call an early end to the night and drive down there just to make sure he's okay. Kate shoots me a glare as though she's reading my mind and I know she won't let me leave that easily.

Finally I manage to relax enough to enjoy myself and for the first time in a long time, I'm having fun. I'm letting loose with my friends, acting my age rather than the single mother I am every day—I think I needed this... Kate's happiness is contagious and despite getting married in the morning, she doesn't turn away when a couple guys slide up to us and begin to dance with us. I roll my eyes at her, knowing that no matter how attractive these guys are, nothing will happen—she's too stuck on Elliot. I'm more hesitant to dance with the strangers; it's one thing to dance with friends, but the only man I've ever danced with is Christian and these guys definitely aren't him. I wonder briefly how the party on the boat is going. Did Elliot manage to sneak strippers on board before their departure? And if so, is Christian partaking in whatever activity the other men are enjoying?

Actually, that's an easy question to answer. I haven't forgotten Christian's phobia of being touched; there is no way he'd allow a stripper or anybody else free rein to grind against his lap and touch him. I feel a little better about that, even if it means I still won't be able to touch him.

One of the guys who has joined us is behind me now, pressing against my backside as he snakes his hands around my waist. I start to push him away when I feel the familiar tingling flowing through my body. I look towards the bar and gasp; Christian is standing there, his hands gripping the railing separating the bar area from the dance floor and I can feel the anger rolling off him in waves. I pull away from the man behind me, ignoring his sounds of protest and the hand he shoots out to keep me near—to my horror, instead of grabbing for my arm which I choose to believe was his intention, he palms my breast. I dart my panicked gaze towards Christian and find him missing; one sweep of the room finds him descending the stairs leading to the dance floor, his intent obvious.

I'm able to intercept him, pressing my hands against his shoulders to stop him from beating this guy into a bloody pulp. "Christian, stop!" I say urgently. He looks down at me as though he is just now realizing I'm there and uncertainty fills his expression. I think he's realizing that he doesn't really have a say in who I dance with—we're not together. My heart constricts at the thought. He stares at me for several long minutes, trying to figure out where to go from here, and I'm still gripping his upper arms, hoping it's enough to keep him in place.

His jaw tenses and he reaches up to grip my elbow, all but dragging me off the dance floor. I glance over my shoulder at Kate and Mia who have been watching this exchange with dropped, shocked jaws. I give Kate a small smile of apology and she nods, informing me that it's fine.

Christian doesn't look at or speak to me until we're in a private room I think might be an office. He closes the door behind him, resting his forehead against the wood while I stand across the room waiting to diffuse whatever argument is about to happen. When he turns towards me, he surprises me by sliding down the door and sitting on the floor rather than making use of the couch in the room. Without a word, I cross over and sit opposite him and we stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. Finally, he takes a shaky breath to speak. "When you left last year," he begins in a low voice, "something happened to me."

My eyebrows rise. This isn't the conversation I expected until tomorrow evening at the earliest. I probably should have realized nothing about Christian Grey is predictable. Regardless, I listen raptly to his words.

"It took me months to come to terms with the realization that you were gone. I was so angry, Anastasia—at everyone and everything, you included. Mostly, though, I was angry at myself, because I knew that if I'd done things differently that morning, you might still be in my life." I don't have to ask him to elaborate on what morning he's talking about. We're both fully aware. It's one of the worst memories of my life. "I started down a destructive path that I haven't experienced since I was a teenager. I'll spare you the details, but it wasn't pretty. I let you go when you left, because I knew you deserved better than me—you will always deserve better than me. Part of me was glad you left Seattle completely, because at least that way, I could avoid the temptation of begging for you to come back. And yes, I was prepared to beg."

My eyes widen in surprise. "How did you not know about Caleb?" I ask him quietly. "A man of your means who can find out a girl's shoe size with one phone call surely would have known..."

His steady gaze makes me nervous about his reaction. "I didn't know because I didn't allow myself to look for information about you," he answers evenly. "I couldn't take the risk that learning anything about your life would only put me back under your spell. And I was hurting enough; physically, I wouldn't have been able to handle it."

"Oh," I say in a small voice. How did I not realize he might have been going through the same misery I continue to live with? "Christian, I—"

He shakes his head, cutting off my apology. "Don't do that," he chides gently. "Ana, we both made mistakes last year and I'm sure we both think our mistakes are worse than the other's. I don't want to make you feel guilty about this; honestly, you were probably right to hide him from me. I don't know how I would have taken the news, but I suspect my reaction wouldn't have made you feel warm and fuzzy."

_Just as I expected,_ I think sadly. Of course he didn't want a child; why would he? "And how do you feel about it now?" I ask tentatively.

Sighing, he drops his head into his hands as he thinks about the question and his answer. I'm getting more nervous as the seconds tick on. "I'm scared," he finally says, his voice barely louder than a breath. He meets my gaze again looking pale, his eyes wide. "And I'm confused and angry and a million other emotions I can't identify. All I know right now is that this," he gestures between us, "is tenuous at best and if I make one wrong move, I'm going to fuck everything up."

I want to argue, to tell him he's wrong and that we will both make mistakes regarding the last year, but I keep quiet.

"I lost you once," he says, his voice getting stronger. "And I don't want it to happen again, but Ana, I have no idea how to do this." His hand gestures wildly around the room, making "this" an all-encompassing word.

"Neither do I," I admit in a whisper.

We stare at each other in silence for a few minutes before he sighs. "So where do we go from here?" he asks uncertainly.

I shrug. "No idea," I say. "Where would you like to go from here?" It occurs to me that for once, he's allowing me to take the lead and needs me to guide him. Whatever I decide, I know he'll go along with it, even if it means he isn't involved in our lives. That's not something I could ever do to either of us. I take a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "Do you want to meet him?"

His eyes widen in what I can only identify as panic. "Meet him?" he repeats, brow furrowing as he thinks. I watch his body finally begin to relax and eventually, he gives me a small, shy smile that makes my heart skip a beat. "Yes, I think I'd like to meet him. Is that okay?"

I'm grinning like an idiot and I don't care. "Yes, of course it's okay," I say, feeling tears spilling from my eyes and fall down my cheeks. Without warning, Christian scoops me into his lap and just holds me. "He's in Montesano tonight and tomorrow with my mom and Ray, but they should be back by the end of the wedding reception. Do you think you can wait that long?"

He narrows his eyes at my teasing voice, but nods, resting his lips against my forehead. "I can certainly try," he murmurs against my skin, sending a vibration all throughout my body. "No promises though." I giggle and feel him smile. "I missed that sound, Anastasia." His tone is wistful. "I missed _you."_

I carefully rest my head against his shoulder. He tenses, but doesn't push me away. "I missed you, too, Christian."

Nothing more needs to be said right now. There is still a mountain of things we need to talk about, but for now, we're both content to leave them as they are. We can figure the rest out later.


	5. Chapter 5

Following our conversation at the nightclub, I felt some of the world lifting off my shoulders. As reluctant as I was to leave her, Ana returned to her friends and I left to return to my brother's party. By the time I reached _The Grace_ via motorboat, my brother and his friends were far past wasted. Taylor had stayed behind when I snuck away to keep an eye on things and make certain Elliot didn't somehow manage to sink my boat in my absence. Nobody aside from my head of security even realized I'd gone and that's the way I prefer it.

I'm still replaying every moment from the nightclub from seeing Anastasia on the dance floor smiling and happy as she danced with her friends to the sudden recollection of just how sexy she is and the effect she still has on me to seeing some fucker pressed against her. The murderous thoughts going through my head when he "accidentally" grabbed her breast didn't surprise me; the fact that her touch on my arms, the pleading look in her eyes, and the soothing sound of her voice was enough to stop me from ending up in jail the night before my brother's wedding, however, was a surprise. A huge surprise at that. The possessiveness I've felt for her since the moment I first laid eyes on her hasn't waned in the slightest and I'd wager a bet that it never will. Despite that, a voice pushed into my mind that reminded me that Ana isn't mine anymore. Not really. Not yet. If she wants to dance with some horny dick, that's her choice.

I compromised with the voice that sounded eerily like John Flynn—I removed her from the dance floor rather than beating some asshole to death, made sure Kate knew Ana was coming with me, and didn't bring the incident up again. Because in the bigger picture what happened on that dance floor doesn't matter to me. Especially not in light of Anastasia's offer to let me meet my son and her subsequent happiness when I told her I _want_ to meet him.

That still sounds strange, even in my own mind—my son. I've lost track of how many times I've taken the photograph she gave me out of my pocket just to glance at it and reassure myself this isn't some sort of dream. I think that's the reason I've been so very careful with how I handle this situation—I'm terrified that if I utter one harsh word, I'll wake up and be more miserable and lonely than I've ever been in my life.

"What've you got there, son?"

I jerk my head up and look behind me to find Carrick looking at me in confusion, his eyes darting between me and the photo in my hand. _Fuck..._

"Is that Ana?" he asks quietly, his voice even.

At this point in my life, I knew better than to lie to my father. Of all the people in my life, I think he is the one that has been most concerned about my welfare this past year. It hit me like a freight train the day I realized he partly blamed himself for my misery. I have no idea why and we've never discussed it, but I know he's nervous knowing Ana is here this weekend.

Feeling resigned—he'll find out eventually, anyway—I nod, handing him the photo. He studies it just as hard as I did upon first seeing it and it only takes him a few minutes before he gasps in shock and realization. "Christian," he breathes, looking back at me.

"Yeah," I say quietly. "He's three months old. His name is Caleb."

"Did you know about this?" he asks incredulously, unable to keep the accusation from his tone

"No," I answer. "I only found out last night." I can already see exactly how this is going to play out.

"Ana kept this from you?" He's whispering, but he might as well be shouting in my ear with the way I jump at his words. The only time I've seen him this angry was when I dropped out of Harvard.

"She did," I confirm defensively, "but she had her reasons."

Carrick sputters angrily. "What 'reason' could there possibly be for keeping your child a secret?" He's waving the photo in front of my face for emphasis.

I take a few deep breaths to help control my temper. "Given the reasons she and I broke up," I manage calmly, "which I'd still rather not discuss with you or anybody else, she made the right decision."

Carrick's brow furrows and I can see him running through a list of possible explanations about what I mean, then an argument that Ana's decision could never be considered the "right" one. Luckily, he drops that line of discussion—at least for now. He sighs. "What are you going to do about this?" he asks eventually.

"Ana and I are discussing our options," I say stiffly. "She wants me to meet him." Carrick's eyes widen at the sudden vulnerability in my voice. "Beyond that, it's one step at a time."

"Is this something you want?" he asks uncertainly.

Taking back the photo, I sigh. "A few months ago, I would have answered that with an unequivocal and resounding no, but now..." I trail off, shrugging.

He watches me closely before his features finally soften and I see a hint of a smile on his face. "You know, your mother and I always knew you'd make a good father one day." The only time I've been this surprised was last night in Ana's hotel room when I heard a baby crying. "I remember the day we brought Mia home and how excited you were to hold her. You were so... patient and careful and loving with her. For a few months after, we'd find you asleep on the floor beside her crib. It was such a relief to see that despite your shitty start in life, you were still able to so deeply care about someone." He shakes his head in wonder. "I know you're nervous, Christian, and I don't blame you one bit. In fact, I'd be concerned if you _weren't_ nervous. But if you and Ana can find a way forward after whatever it was that broke you up, I promise you will find yourself a lifetime of happiness in having a child. There will be moments of frustration and strained patience, but even the less than perfect moments are worth more than your business, wealth, and possessions all put together."

I take a few minutes to let my father's words and advice sink in. When they finally do, my mind comes up with all sorts of possibilities about what the future might hold for Ana and me. I'm seeing bedtime story reading rituals, a house full of laughter and love instead of pain; I see Ana and me sitting together when we're old and gray and more in love with each other than ever. And it's fucking amazing.

When I think about what I want to say next, I begin to feel a little guilty, but I know it's necessary right now. "I know I'm probably asking a lot with this, but could you not mention this to Mom just yet? Only until I'm a little more certain about where things lie between Ana and me," I say quickly as he begins to object. "Everything is so..." I look around, hoping to find the right word, "unknown and confusing right now and I worry about outside interference and undue influence. It's bad enough Kate knows."

I see my father's temper rise at my slip of the tongue. "Katherine knew about this?" he asks indignantly. "Did Elliot?"

"Of course Kate knew," I say, surprised at my defense of my soon-to-be sister-in-law. "She's Ana's best friend. As for Elliot..." I hesitate, having wondered the same thing myself. "No," I finally answer. "I don't think he does. I can't see him hiding this from me..."

Carrick grudgingly agrees. "I'll keep it quiet for now," he says. "But no matter what happens, your mother will never forgive any of us for not telling her she has a grandchild." When he finishes speaking the last word, he stands up straighter, blinking in realization. "We're grandparents." I can hear the reverence in his voice. He laughs briefly, shaking his head in wonder. "I honestly thought we'd be getting this news years ago, though with Elliot as the father."

I crack a reluctant smile. I thought the same thing often. Finally Carrick puts the conversation to rest for the time being. Patting me on the arm, he gestures for me to walk ahead of him and return to the party. I take one last glance at the photo still in my hands before carefully stowing it away again.

* * *

I know the focus of today is supposed to be on Kate and Elliot's marital union, but to be completely honest, my mind couldn't be further away if I tried. Ever since Christian left the nightclub last night, I've been distracted. Kate immediately cornered me the second he turned away from me and began the Katherine Kavanagh-soon-to-be-Grey Inquisition. I told her as much as I could over the pounding music and she seemed happy at the progress that Christian and I have made in less than twenty-four hours. Hell, I'm impressed at our progress. Of course I had to apologize to her for all the drama I seemed to have brought to her wedding. I needn't have bothered, though; judging by the smug expression she gave me as we rejoined the others to dance, she had planned something along these lines to happen while I was in Seattle. I shouldn't be surprised...

This morning, most of the women are tired and sipping at coffee to hold their hangovers at bay; for once, I'm not one of them. I'm more awake than Kate is right now as the hair stylist, a flamboyantly Italian man named Franco, arrives. Apparently he was brought in from a local beauty salon run by a friend of Grace's. He has us wide awake and laughing within a few minutes of beginning his work, ignoring our requests for how we want our hair by wagging his finger at us and clicking his tongue. I can already see Kate approaching the end of her tether, but luckily Franco takes her direction when it's her turn.

"I'm so happy for you, Kate," I say quietly, smiling as I take advantage of a rare, private minute with my best friend.

"So am I," she says dreamily, causing me to laugh. She looks at me with a grin. "Would you have believed any of this would happen after we graduated?"

I shake my head, thinking over everything that has happened. "No," I say confidently. "Not even for a second."

"I mean, I knew moving to Seattle would be an experience, but I meet the man of my dreams because he's the man of your dreams's brother, we get engaged within six months... You _finally_ lost your virginity and now you have the cutest baby boy in the history of the world..." She winces as she finishes speaking, belatedly hearing her own words. "Shit, Ana, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I reply. "Really, Kate, I'm good. I feel better every time Christian and I talk, though admittedly it's only actually happened a couple times... Whatever happens between us after this, I think I can live with it."

She sighs. "Look, I know how you feel about Christian and under different circumstances, I'd tell you to go full steam ahead. While I'm not saying you _shouldn't_ go full steam ahead, you've got that little boy to consider. Every move you make now shapes his future as well as yours. Just be careful, Ana. Please."

Rather than get offended that she's offering me parenting advice when before Caleb was born she'd never even changed a diaper, I smile. "I know, Kate," I say quietly, leaning in to hug her without messing up her hair and makeup. "Thanks."

Our moment is broken when the door of the dressing room opens and Kate's mother rolls in the rack containing Kate's wedding dresses as well as the bridesmaids' dresses, all custom-designed, of course. I try to keep my mind on Kate, but as ever, it drifts on its own towards Christian. I think I'm almost as eager to see him as Kate is to see Elliot. I compare this to last year when my thoughts about Christian were mostly centered on his contract and desire to make me his submissive. I clearly remember how overwhelmed I'd felt, struggling to decide whether I could be what he wanted for no other reason than I wanted to be with him. I wanted more from him; so much more than seeing him only for a weekend when our time would be spent in his Red Room of Pain. He hinted over and over that he wanted the same thing, but I know he was scared of the unknown—allowing us to have more meant ceding some of his control, something he'd never done.

The few times he followed through on his attempt to bring more into our relationship were phenomenal to say the least and I'd so been looking forward to seeing what else he might come up with. As much as I've tried not to think of those last few hours with Christian in his penthouse, I know that at some point he and I will have to talk about it. Even if we do somehow work things out and get back together, I don't think I could go back to anything regarding what he originally wanted in a relationship with me. Not that it was all bad; my stomach still tightens whenever I think about the last time we were in the playroom with the musical interlude. I could definitely do a repeat of that...

Through my daydream in which Christian struts towards me wearing those old, ripped jeans, no shirt, and no shoes, I don't hear the knock on the dressing room door, nor do I realize I'm being watched and smirked at until Mia nudges me with her shoulder. Turning around, I find Christian leaning against the doorframe already dressed in his tux though his bowtie hangs loosely around his neck.

"Hi," I say, realizing he's here specifically to see me. Trying not to simper like a teenage girl, I join him at the door.

He smiles slowly, looking me up and down. Only now do I realize I'm only wearing a bathrobe and I think he knows it. "Hi yourself," he says huskily. "How was the rest of your night?"

I shrug indifferently. After he left, the rest of the night was comparably boring.

His smile widens for a moment as he glances around the dressing room, his expression suddenly turning uncertain. Gesturing with his head for me to join him outside, Christian runs his hands through his hair. He hesitates once the door is shut. "I thought it only fair to warn you," he begins quietly, "that my dad knows about Caleb." My eyes widen and I open my mouth to speak, though no words come out. Christian smiles apologetically. "I was looking at the picture you gave me and he walked up behind me and saw it. I asked him to keep it to himself until you and I have a chance to sort things out..."

Of everything he just said, the one that sticks in my mind is that he was looking at the picture of his son while he was supposed to be enjoying Elliot's bachelor party. And it seems he was so enthralled with the image that he didn't even realize someone else was looking over his shoulder. That gives me hope that he'll embrace fatherhood—or he'll at least allow himself to try.

"Ana?"

I blink, returning to the present and Christian's concerned expression. "Sorry," I say quickly. "Zoned out..." I think about the rest of what he's said to me. "Is he angry with me?"

Christian's half-shrug along with how he averts his gaze from mine is all I need to know. "Don't worry about it," he says softly, fighting the urge to reach out and touch me. I can see his thumbs twitching. "This is between us, Ana. Everyone else will have an opinion, but at the end of the day, the only input I want on what happens with us in the future is yours and mine. The rest of them can deal."

I nod, sighing. "I haven't even really thought about how everyone else will react," I admit quietly. "It's bad enough I kept this from you, but it affects your family, too..."

He seems to be fighting off his annoyance. "Ana, please," he says with strained patience. "Don't do that to yourself. We've already discussed this..."Look, we'll deal with my family later. Right now, the only people I'm concerned with are you and Caleb. No one else. Okay?"

I nod jerkily, trying not to let guilt take over. It's not as easy as I'd hoped it would be. "Okay," I agree quietly.

His shoulders relax significantly. "Okay," he repeats. We stand in silence, once again just staring at each other. Finally, he gives me a tentative smile. "I'm really looking forward to this evening..."

My eyes widen in surprise. I love that he seems so eager, though albeit nervously, to officially meet his son. I can already see that the two of them will be perfect with each other and for each other. Hopefully, Caleb can help him realize the true depth of how he can care about another person and he can put a few of his demons to rest. "I'm looking forward to it, too," I say, biting my lip.

He closes his eyes and when they open again, they're on fire. He reaches out to gently tug my lip from my teeth. "Are you doing that on purpose, Miss Steele?" he asks darkly, though I can see the amusement in his eyes.

"Um," I squeak. "No. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," he murmurs, a smile on his lips. "Though it really isn't fair that you're biting your lip while I know with absolute certainty that if I loosen that belt on your robe you will be completely naked."

And there it is. That spark that is always between us. The one that inspired his "fuck the paperwork" moment in the elevator of the Heathman Hotel. The one that unfailingly turns my panties into a sodden mess each and every time. The heat in his eyes tells me he feels it, too, and that he's a little surprised that it's still there. I swallow hard, knowing if we stay here much longer together neither of us will be able to restrain ourselves.

"I should get back," I say breathily, looking up at him through my eyelashes and wondering when he closed the few feet of distance between us.

He nods slowly in agreement, but doesn't back away or take his eyes off of me. "I'll see you soon, Anastasia." I can't tell if that's a promise or a threat; he leans down to press our lips together in a sweet, brief kiss. In the next moment, he's walking away and I'm left to whimper in the hallway.

* * *

Right at this very second, I know I'm meant to be watching my big brother as he recites his wedding vows to his bride. Unfortunately, my attention on the wedding evaporated at the exact moment that I saw Anastasia in her bridesmaid dress. If it were a severe faux pas, I'd have tackled her to her ground and taken her in front of all these people including my parents and grandparents. So far, I've managed to react at the right moments to pass Elliot the rings I've been carrying around all morning, but as soon as everyone turned away from me, I went back to watching Ana. And more than once, I've caught her staring right back.

I know that look in her eyes. She's taken in my appearance from my hair to my polished black shoes and judging by the blush that creeping up her neck and cheeks, mine aren't the only thoughts taking less-than-innocent turns. The time spent twenty feet from each other, our gazes locked, is pure torture, but I can't touch her and I have to remind myself before I even consider pinning her against a wall, bed, or any other surface, we still have so many things to discuss.

"...I now pronounce you Man and Wife. You may kiss the bride."

I jerk back to the present and clap along with everyone else as Elliot grabs Kate, dips her backwards, and bestows a kiss on her that is _just_ on this side of decent. Finally they break apart and start down the aisle as the wedding party pairs off and follows. I breathe a sigh of relief and a silent _thank fuck_ when I realize Ana and I will walk together—I'm not sure I could restrain myself from beating the crap out of one of Elliot's other groomsmen if he were to take her arm.

"You look absolutely breathtaking, Miss Steele," I murmur as she slips her arm into mine.

She smiles shyly up at me. "Thank you, Mr. Grey," she murmurs back, clearly pleased by my comment. "You don't look too bad yourself."

"What, this old thing?" I joke, adjusting the bowtie around my neck. She giggles and I grin; mission accomplished. If I have it my way, every day of her life will be filled with laughter whether at me or something else.

We arrive outside where Kate and Elliot are about to slip into a limo that will take them to the wedding reception at another of my clubs when Kate stops, glancing around before turning her back on everybody, though not before she shoots a mischievous look at Ana and me. The next thing I know, a bouquet of flowers is flying towards us and Ana reflexively throws out a hand to catch it, looking wide-eyed up at me when she realizes what just happened. I can hear everybody laughing as I look down at Ana while she waits on my response. The problem is that shock keeps me from forming the response. After a moment, she averts her eyes, shrugs, and drops her gaze, urging me to step forward towards another awaiting limo for the wedding party.

* * *

Thankfully, Ana's disappointment at my lack of any sort of response is fleeting and by the time we reach the reception, she's happy and laughing again. She even lets me hold her hand. Who thought I'd ever actually enjoy something so simple? It must be the effect Ana holds over me.

Walking into the club, I smile around at the preparations that had been made for my brother's wedding reception. Everything from the decorations to the dancing has been carefully thought out by Kate, relayed to me via Elliot, and made into reality, and I'm happy to let her think Elliot made every last arrangement. The dinner and wine are delicious, though I notice Ana opts for sparkling water instead of alcohol, and conversation flows easily amongst the bridal party. Around the time for Kate and Elliot to cut the cake, I notice Ana's attention begin to wane. She looks anxious about something.

"What is it?" I murmur concernedly when she glances into her purse for the twelfth time in two minutes.

She forces a smile on her face, shaking her head. "Nothing," she lies. Once everybody laughs indulgently when Kate dodges Elliot's attempt to smash cake in her face only to do the same to him in return, Ana starts to get antsy. "I'll be right back..."

I stand up as she pushes her chair back to slip away from the table, taking her cell phone from her purse as she walks. My gaze remains on her even as cake is delivered, eaten, and the time for the bride and groom's first dance has come. I clap politely as they begin, still letting my gaze drift towards Ana. I can only see her back as she paces and talks on the phone to somebody, and as much as I want to go see if everything is okay, my intention is thwarted.

"Christian," a voice purrs behind me.

Normally, I'd spin around, smile, and greet the voice's owner, but right now she is my last concern. "Hello, Elena," I say distractedly. It's only then that I recall the few times last year that Ana and I discussed Elena Lincoln, and none of those times were with smiles on our faces. In fact, if I recall, more often than not, I lost my temper with Ana's line of questioning, and tried everything to distract her. Elena was another one in my life worried about me following Ana's leaving last year, though she's mostly been trying to remind me that my needs are far beyond what someone so inexperienced as Anastasia Steele could provide for me and trying to find a submissive that might actually succeed. Neither of us has had much luck and for once, I think I'm actually happy about that.

Now, though, with Ana here and Elena's presence—no doubt added to the invite list due to her friendship with my mother—I'm a little uneasy. Aside from the fact that Ana is already on edge for some reason and I've been working very hard to keep things as light between us as I can, I don't need anybody making a scene at my brother's wedding—Elena in some misguided attempt to protect me; Ana in her green-eyed goddess persona. As much as I enjoyed the knowledge that Ana went insanely jealous when Elena was brought up, we have enough on our minds at the moment.

"How about a dance?" Elena asks good-naturedly.

I look around realizing everyone else is joining Kate and Elliot on the dance floor. Any other time, manners would kick in and I would immediately accept the offer to dance; she taught me, after all. Elena senses my hesitation and zeroes in on it. "If I didn't know any better," she begins teasingly, "I'd say you're here with somebody."

Technically speaking, it's not true, but I make no move to correct Elena. "And if I am?" I counter, sparing Elena a brief glance to see the surprise in her expression.

"Well, that would be a first, wouldn't it? Anybody I know?"

"No," I say curtly. Wasn't she at the wedding ceremony? There is no doubt in my mind that she saw Ana standing next to Kate or how I spent most of the time staring at her. And of course she'll know, even if my mother didn't mention Ana would be in the wedding, which I know she did, that Ana is exactly my type. She's fishing, playing a game that I'm not eager to participate in.

"And I take it you're not eager to introduce me to whoever it is you seem to be so hung up on that you brought her to your brother's wedding?" There is a new edge in Elena's tone that tenses my shoulders—it's not quite the tone she used when I was her submissive, but it's quickly approaching that. "Oh, come on, Christian," she needles. "It might be good to get my opinion of this girl if she's got your attention to this level..." When I don't respond, she sighs impatiently. "Don't tell me you're still pining over that mousy little coed, Christian. She's proved once already she can't fulfill your needs; are you really going to risk getting hurt again?"

Suddenly furious, I begin to turn towards her to tell her to mind her own fucking business for a change, but one glance over my shoulder finds Ana ending her call and walking back towards me, looking upset, and my anger fades, my choice clear. Without a word to Elena, I meet Ana halfway, intercepting her before she walks into me. "What is it?" I ask worriedly, tilting her chin up. Immediately, I reach up to wipe a couple tears from her.

"I'm fine," she says, forcing a smile. "Really, I'm overreacting."

"That doesn't answer my question," I chide gently. "What's wrong?"

She shakes her head, sighing. "It's just that I haven't been apart from Caleb for this long before," she says quietly. "He's fine, just fussy when I called to check on him. I could hear him crying and it kills me to not be able to do anything."

Without hesitation, I pull her into my arms, feeling her hesitantly slipping hers around my waist. "He'll be back soon," I murmur into her hair. "Right?"

She nods into my chest and I fight not to tense in reaction. "Mom left Ray's about half an hour ago; they should be back in an hour or so," she confirms, and I can feel her beginning to relax. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," I murmur, rubbing her shoulders reassuringly. "I'm sure that's a natural reaction for a mother..." I trail off, uncertain; after all, what the hell do I know about natural reactions of a concerned mother of a newborn? My own birthmother probably never spared me that sort of thought even once before she killed herself. Shaking those thoughts away, I know what I need to do next. I take a step back from Ana, holding out my hand, and smiling at her. She looks at me with a hint of amusement and question in her eyes. "Dance with me, Miss Steele?"

I fight back a groan when she bites her lip briefly. "Why, Mr. Grey, I thought you'd never ask..." she says, smiling and putting her hand in mine. Grinning widely, my fingers close around hers and I lead her onto the dance floor, turning her in my arms and causing her to giggle again.

For a few minutes, we do nothing more than stare at one another as memory after memory of my brief time with Ana comes back yet again. I remember how nice it is to just hold her and look at her, how right it feels to be in my arms. And I remember the revelations I had a few months after she left, my attempts to ignore aforementioned revelations, and my abysmal failures to do so. I wonder how if I can ever have those feelings back again or if secrets, distance, and time will have destroyed all my chances...

"Looks like you've got an admirer," Ana says, amused.

"What?" I ask cluelessly.

She nods her head over my shoulder. "Whoever she is, she hasn't taken her eyes off you since we started dancing..."

I feel a little smug at the jealousy clouding her expression and tone, but glance over my shoulder, immediately finding Elena watching unabashedly, her eyes narrowed on us. "Ignore her," I say tensely, immediately turning back to Ana.

Her eyes widen at the sudden change in my tone and I wait for her to question me on it. Luckily, at least for the moment, I avoid disaster; Ana finally shakes herself and turns her attention back to me. After a few more dances, she says she's thirsty so I lead her to the open bar, asking if she wants to join me in a glass of mine.

"Um, no," she says, her brow furrowing in a way that makes me think I'm missing the obvious. I raise an eyebrow at her and she very nearly rolls her eyes, lowering her voice and leaning in closer to me. "I'm breastfeeding."

"Oh," I say in understanding, blinking a few times. Then I really understand what she's saying and I can't resist the smirk and leering expression I give her. "Oh..." My voice is lower, huskier, much more suggestive a tone than I've used with her this weekend.

To my delight, she blushes the color of the wine placed in front of me, avoiding my gaze as she orders a diet soda.

"I suppose I'd be pushing my luck if I asked to be witness to such an event?" I murmur in her ear when we take a seat at a table.

I expect her to blush deeply again, to sputter out some response that neither of us can really decipher. So when she turns to me, looking up through her eyelashes, and whispers, I'm the one who is speechless. "Only if you're lucky, Mr. Grey," she says, causing my pants to tighten almost to the point of pain. She looks exceedingly pleased at my reaction, then promptly turns away when Mia breathlessly sits down beside her and begins to talk a mile a minute.

_This woman is going to kill me..._

So why am I grinning?

It's not much later that Ana gets a text message and looks at me nervously. "Mom should be back at the hotel soon..." she says quietly, almost uncertainly.

"Well," I say simply, "we should get going then, shouldn't we?"

Smiling, she nods. We walk the room, saying our goodbyes and wishing Kate and Elliot a good honeymoon before I lead her out of the club where Taylor is waiting by the SUV. He nods and smiles a hello to Ana, holding the backdoor open for us. I wonder briefly what he'll say when I eventually tell him about Caleb—I can already see wide eyes and a dropped jaw. Pushing that aside for the moment, I focus on the one thing that matters right now: I'm going to meet my son.


	6. Chapter 6

The drive from the reception to the hotel where Ana is staying is silent. I think we're both a little anxious about what will happen in short while, though I'm feeling a little concerned about the way Elena was eyeing us earlier. The last thing we need is anyone's interference, much less Elena's, and I worry about her misguided sense of protecting me from the girl who broke my heart last year. I can only imagine what will happen when Elena finds out about the baby, and she will find out. I have no intention of telling her, but I don't doubt Grace will.

"You're nervous."

I turn away from staring out the window to find Ana staring at me. "A little," I admit quietly.

"So am I."

This surprises me. "Why?" I ask curiously.

She shrugs, looking away for me. At first I don't think she's going to answer, but she finally takes a deep, shaky breath before speaking. "This is important," she says quietly. "I really want you to like him and he you. I want to see you two..." she trails off, searching for the right word, then shrugs again when she's unable, "bond, I guess."

I hesitate with my next words, hoping I'm choosing the right ones. "I might not have been there during your pregnancy or the last few months," I say tentatively, trying to keep from sounding like I'm blaming her—I really don't—and take the photo of Ana and Caleb from my jacket. She looks back to me, gasping when she recognizes it and realizes I've been carrying it around with me. "But I already feel close to him—to both of you. I want to be in your lives in whatever capacity you choose, Anastasia, though I really hope you'll consider letting me take care of you."

She doesn't seem to have a response and I can almost hear the gears spinning in her mind as she fights the urge to decline my offer on principle due to her stubborn independence. She scowls suddenly and I realize I'm grinning at her. "What?" she snaps; I can see her starting to smile.

"Nothing," I claim, wiping the smile from my face. "So tell me something about you and Caleb."

"Like what?" she asks with a furrowed brow.

I shrug, wanting to know everything. I already know she didn't have the easiest pregnancy or labor from the information Welch found the night I discovered Caleb's existence, but I don't know how she'll react to being reminded of my stalking tendencies right now. "What was your pregnancy like?" I ask quietly.

She sighs, looking a little sad and I wonder if I've picked the wrong topic of conversation. "It was... rough at times," she answers, staring down at her hands. "I was nervous and scared about becoming a mother—a single mother at that. My mom tried to prepare me as best she could, but I spent so much time worrying whether I was making the right decision about not telling you that I didn't always do things the way I should. I was on bed rest towards the end—my blood pressure was too high—and the day Caleb was born, all I really remember is being so afraid that one of us wouldn't make it. We were in distress and in the end I finally agreed to a C-section. Obviously we're both perfectly fine now, but that was hard."

If I interrupt her now, I know she'll clam up because she'll realize I'm upset about the thought that the two of them could have died—I think that would have killed me...

"After he was born," her voice is a little stronger now, happier, "I had no real idea what it was I was doing. There are only so many things people say as advice before you realize it doesn't actually apply to your child. I was scared of doing something wrong, frustrated for the first couple months because I couldn't figure out what it was he wanted or needed, and I felt like I should inherently know because I'm his mother and that sort of thing is supposed to be instinct." She rolls her eyes at herself, smiling a little. "Kate stayed with me for a week or so at the beginning so I could get some sleep. So did Mom, but when they both left, I was on my own and back to being scared and lonely and clueless..." She shakes her head again, still avoiding my gaze. I know she's thinking that if I'd known about the baby, she wouldn't have felt so lost.

Without thinking, I reach over, unbuckle her seatbelt, and pull her onto my lap, silently promising her I'll make it all up to both of us, even if I don't yet know how...

Finally she begins to relax against me and neither of us makes a move to change our positions despite that it would be safer for her to be buckled in her own seat. I forget about that, however, when she asks her next question. "What about you?" she whispers, tentatively linking our fingers together as we both watch them in wonder. "What have you been up to?"

I know what she's really asking me—am I in a relationship or possibly in a contract with a submissive? I've already decided that the whole truth is the only way to handle this. "Not a whole lot," I say carefully, running my thumb across her knuckles and smiling a little when the little hairs on her arm stand at attention. "Working mostly. A few months after you left, I had to admit to myself you weren't coming back and I'd been fighting myself to not track you down, demand an explanation about why you left. I needed to do something to get you out of my head." I hesitate, wishing I didn't have to say my next words.

"I had submissives," I say in a low voice. Her entire body tenses and she tries to pull away from me, but I hold her against me. "It's not what you think..." The look in her eyes is skeptical and mixed with disappointment and a little anger, though I'm not sure which of us she's angry with. "Ana, I tried everything, and these girls I contracted..." I shake my head at myself. "They got as far as the playroom—only a few lasted more than an hour or so, though. I did what I used to do before I met you—beat the shit out of them—but when the time came to fuck them... I couldn't do it." I look at her, turning her chin so she's looking at me. Her eyes are wide, surprised and uncertain. "Physically, I couldn't do it. My jeans never came off during those sessions and after a while, I gave up, because I finally came to the conclusion that the only person I wanted, the only person I'll _ever_ want, is you, Ana. And if it turns out that we aren't together, I don't think that aspect of things will ever change."

She's speechless and I know she's asking herself if I'm being honest with her or not. The couple times I got close enough to another woman for sex, I recall being absolutely livid that I seemed to be unable to get hard. Normally all it took was spending a few minutes beating a submissive to turn me on, but that was before Ana. I know now why I was unable to respond—Dr. Flynn and I have been discussing it for six months or so now—but again, I'm hesitant to say the words out loud. If she rejects me, leaves me again, it will destroy me.

We don't speak again until we're right outside her hotel room and I can feel the tension coming from both of us. She unlocks the door and we enter. I look around, searching for a baby, but the room is empty.

"Mom should be back soon," Ana says quietly. "Do you want a drink or something?"

I think I manage a nod and she heads to the mini bar, bringing back a couple bottles of water. As we sit, I look around the room, taking it in properly for the first time. It's a little more extravagant than what I would assume Ana could afford and she sees the question in my eyes without me asking it.

"We were going to stay with Kate," she says, "but we decided a hotel would be better with the baby—I didn't want to disturb anyone and he has a tendency to wake up in the middle of the night wanting attention."

I grin, recalling myself waking in the middle of the night wanting Ana's attention as well... Before I can form a response, the room door opens again. "We're back," Carla calls. Ana is on her feet and rushing towards them, immediately taking the car seat Carla is carrying. When I finally convince my leg muscles to respond, Caleb is in Ana's arms and she's pressing little kisses against his head and face, asking Carla how he did on the drive home. I don't hear the answer; the only thing I hear are the garbled little coos of the baby clearly pleased to see his mother.

Finally Ana remembers I'm here and turns back to me. "I'm just going to change real quick," she mutters questioningly. I nod jerkily, watching her head into a bedroom and leaving me alone with Carla.

"Hello, Christian," she says quietly.

I manage a small smile. "Hello, Carla. How are you?"

"Tired," she responds, smiling back. "I do love that little man, but he's already exhausting—he's going to give Ana a run for her money when he gets older..."

Unsure how to respond, I nod and she closes some of the distance between us. "I'm not staying long," she says. "Catching a flight back to Savannah tonight—Bob's having knee surgery in the morning and I need to be there." I wonder vaguely why Ana didn't choose to fly back tonight as well, then decide I really don't care—for tonight, she's with me. "Listen, Ana won't say why you two split up and to be honest, I don't particularly care, but I will say this: I don't care how much money or power you have, Christian Grey; if you hurt my daughter or my grandson, I will find you and it will not be a pleasant experience."

I look at her in shock from the threat, not that I can blame her for being protective. I nod quickly in acknowledgment of her words. "I understand," I answer quietly.

Carla nods once, then heads into another bedroom, presumably to pack. Sitting down again, I quickly text Taylor to drive Carla to the airport and make a call to upgrade her flight to first-class. I remember doing this for Ana last year and the email exchanges we had regarding my interference in her life, her massage before her flight, and how she finally began opening up to me about how she felt towards our would-be arrangement. A few minutes later, Carla reappears, popping into Ana's room briefly and I hear them saying goodbye.

"She'll just be a minute," Carla assures me as she pulls her suitcase behind her. "She's just changing Caleb's diaper."

"Thank you," I say hoarsely. After informing Carla of the change in her arrangements, which she accepts far more gratefully than her daughter, Carla is gone, and I'm alone in a room with Anastasia and my son, and my patience is growing thin.

At very long last, Ana emerges from the closed bedroom with Caleb in her arms. I stand again, watching with wide eyes as they get nearer to me, not taking my gaze from the small human being who is now looking around the room with interest. "This is Caleb," Ana whispers, her voice full of emotion. "Our son."

I release a breath I didn't know I was holding, uncertain what I'm supposed to do next.

"Do you want to sit?" Ana asks. I nod, dropping onto the couch again as she sits down with much more grace than I possess at the moment.

"He's so small," I breathe in wonder. He's the smallest living being I've ever seen in my life. Everything from his nose to his hands and his fingers... I'm enthralled as I study him. He definitely has my hair and nose, but Ana's eyes and mouth. And when those eyes turn and lock on me, I'm completely lost. "He's perfect."

I see Ana nod out of the corner of my eye. "I think so," she whispers. I look up to find her cheeks streaked with tears and a huge smile on her face.

Scooting closer to them, I reach up to wipe her cheeks, then very gently use one finger to trace it down my son's cheek, amazed at the softness of his skin. He follows my movements, obviously curious about me. "Hi, Caleb," I say quietly, letting him wrap his tiny fingers around mine. "He's got a hell of a grip." I laugh briefly, looking up at Ana again.

"He's very strong," she agrees. "Much like his father."

I sit up straighter, looking at her in surprise. "You think I'm strong?" I mouth.

"Of course I do," she answers, rolling her eyes. "You'd have to be." She shrugs. "You're the strongest person I've ever met."

I let this sink in for a moment, then shake my head. "That's strange," I whisper, not looking away from her. "Because when you're around, I never feel more helpless."

Her mouth falls open and I know she's uncertain about how to respond.

"I used to be so certain about every detail of my life, never questioned even one aspect of it," I explain. "And then you came charging in and suddenly, nothing made sense anymore. I tried to fight it, tried to fight falling for you, but I was a goner that first day in my office. I wanted more from my life than my job and my..." I glance uncertainly to Caleb—I know he doesn't understand words yet, but I have no intention of ever discussing my lifestyle anywhere near him. "...my extracurricular activities." Ana raises an amused eyebrow at my choice of words. "I would have done just about anything for you, because I wanted nothing more than to see you happy and safe. You leaving me was a wakeup call I didn't expect; I realized that if you were to be a part of my life, I needed to make some very big changes. That's even truer now." I glance down at the finger Caleb still holds. I swallow hard at my next thought. "Ana, my future is in your hands right now, literally and figuratively." This elicits a soft giggle from her. "I will abide by whatever you decide, but I can't deny any longer that I want you back. I'm desperate for it. Anything you want, anything you need... It's yours."

She doesn't reply right away, which actually reassures me slightly. This is not the time for rash decision-making on either of our parts; she needs to think long and hard about what she wants and what is best not only for herself but for our son as well. I can't step in and make demands, despite how much I want to; I don't want to risk pushing her away by holding on too tightly.

We're quiet for nearly half an hour, looking between Caleb and each other like we're shy teenagers.

"Do you want to hold him?" Ana asks eventually.

My eyes widen and my heartbeat increases in pace. Of course I want to, but that doesn't stop me from being nervous about it—something so tiny and fragile... One wrong move and I've harmed my son.

"I thought we discussed this already?" she teases when I only stare at them. "Christian, he's not going to break; he's much stronger than he looks. I promise."

"You trust me to hold him?" I ask in wonder, thinking back to every time I've hurt another person for my own sick pleasure.

"Of course," Ana says firmly. "Christian, I wouldn't let you hold him if I didn't trust you..."

Well, that's something... Finally, I nod. "Yes, I'd like to hold him..." I whisper, still nervous.

Ana smiles and very carefully, she transfers my sleeping son into my arms. He feels perfect and rests his head against my chest, and I feel my cheeks dampen, realizing belatedly that I'm actually crying for the first time in my memory. Closing my eyes, I bend my neck, pressing my lips against his forehead and inhaling his baby scent. I can't imagine anything more perfect than this moment, especially when Ana moves closer and leans her head on my shoulder as she looks down at Caleb.

"Thank you," I breathe, turning my head to press a kiss to the top of her head. Those are the only words I could squeeze past the lump in my throat and I hope it does something in getting Ana to understand just how much this opportunity means to me.

* * *

My eyes blink open slowly and it takes me a few minutes to register my surroundings. I'm on the couch in the hotel. As I wake up a little more, I recall Christian came back with me to meet Caleb and his reaction to his son was something I will never forget.

Suddenly I sit straight up, realizing the two of them aren't in the same room with me. My heart begins to race as panic grips me—where is my son? A dark, fleeting thought suggests Christian took him, and left and that now I'll probably be facing a really nasty custody hearing if that's the case. I'm on my feet, rushing through the hotel room, and I stop short as I arrive in my bedroom. Christian is sitting in the armchair beside the window with Caleb curled on his chest—his _naked_ chest. I watch them in shock, amazed that Christian seems to have no problem with skin-to-skin contact with his son. _Only me, then,_ I think uncharitably. Shaking the thought from my mind, I pay closer attention and strain my ears when I begin to hear Christian's quiet voice—I realize he's singing to Caleb. I think back, trying to remember if I've ever heard Christian sing before. He has a beautiful, deep singing voice and I could get used to hearing it.

I'm so entranced at the scene that I don't even realize Christian has stopped singing and is looking at me. "Did we wake you?" he asks concernedly.

"No," I assure him with a smile, crossing the room to sit in the chair across from him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"It's okay," he responds. "It seems you needed it."

I nod my agreement, punctuating it with a yawn, making him chuckle. "So what happened to your shirt?" I ask, looking between him and Caleb.

He actually flushes a little. Now I'm intrigued. "Caleb woke up and started getting a little fussy, and I didn't want to wake you. I found a bottle of milk, so I fed him, but he spit up a little," he says sheepishly. "So I called Taylor to take my shirt for dry cleaning. He'll bring me something else to wear in the morning."

I cover my mouth to hide my amusement at what I imagine to be a frantic Christian Grey trying to figure out how to handle a situation I'm sure he's never experienced with a call to his head of security for advice.

He narrows his eyes at me. "Do you think that's funny, Miss Steele?" he grumbles.

"A little," I answer, holding my thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. "Yeah..."

Shaking his head, resigned that I'm laughing at him, he looks back to Caleb. "I wish you two could stay," he says wistfully after a few minutes.

I smile apologetically. "Me too," I admit. "But I have to go back to work."

I wait for him to object, to tell me I don't have to work, that he will take care of us if we stay in Seattle. He doesn't and I can't help but wonder what that means, whether he really wants us to stay or not. I'm really starting to hate all this uncertainty. "When will I see you again?" he asks, looking lost and sad.

"I don't know," I answer. "Caleb isn't the best flyer, so trips out here will be sporadic until he's older."

"Can I come see you?" he asks tentatively, his eyes wide in hope. "In Savannah?"

Nodding, I smile. "I'd like that," I say honestly. "Of course you can come see us."

The smile on his face makes me think of a lonely little boy who is afraid of losing the one thing in life that makes him happy. All I can do is smile back and wish I hadn't kept this from him. As nervous as he was at first, he's a natural, even feeding his son without anyone's input. I can't wait to see how they interact as Caleb gets older. Christian was made for this role just as he was made to be the business mogul he's become and I can just see him passing on all his knowledge to his son. He should have been with us this whole time, but because of my fears, he was kept in the dark. That's something I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for.

The three of us sit in silence until sunrise when Caleb starts fussing again. Since there are only a couple bottles of milk left, I save those for the plane ride home, and take him from Christian, sitting down again and adjusting my shirt without thinking to breastfeed. Christian's sharp gasp draws my attention and my skin heats up to the point I wonder if Caleb will protest. The look in Christian's eyes goes from surprise to something darker, more lustful. I stammer an apology.

Christian shakes his head, not taking his eyes from the place where Caleb is latched on to me. "Please don't ever apologize for that," he says huskily.

I nod, looking down at Caleb again and making a mental note to give Christian a bit of warning next time; though the fact that I apparently feel comfortable enough to do this in front of him is a welcome one.

Christian sighs heavily and I realize he's glaring at his cell phone. "Sorry," he murmurs, climbing to his feet. "I have to take this."

With a smile, I watch him leave the room, curtly answering his call. "Well, Caleb," I say quietly, "this has been a very interesting weekend, hasn't it?"

Caleb blinks lazily at me as he continues to feed, making me smile wider.

"And it seems you like him just as much as he likes you..." I don't remember the last time Caleb reacted to a stranger with anything but hysterics. Then again, maybe he somehow knows that Christian is his father and therefore someone to be trusted completely. "I'm sure we'll be seeing him a lot." Or at least, I hope we will. Christian is overwhelmed now, but once we're gone, will that fascination disappear, too? Will he begin to think it's better that we live on the other side of the country so we're not cramping his style?

Caleb whimpers as though he's arguing with me, telling me to give his dad some credit. The look in Christian's eyes tonight tell me quite plainly that he's not going to just forget about us anytime soon, if ever. I wonder how long it will be before he asks me to move back to Seattle. And what will my answer be?

I don't want to think about that right now. We still have hurdles to jump before we get to that point and I think the first test will be when Christian flies out to see us, whenever that might be.

Once Caleb finishes eating and has been burped, I change his diaper, laughing to myself at the apparent diaper-changing attempt Christian made. All I can say about it is that it's on, though I'm not entirely sure how it's supposed to hold anything in—apparently Christian needs a few lessons in child care. After I place Caleb in his crib as he falls asleep, I go in search of Christian, locating him on the balcony, pacing back and forth and gripping his hair with the hand that isn't holding his phone.

"Fuck," he bites out when I open the door. He angrily hits a button on the phone and spins around, freezing in place when he sees me. The anger deflates almost immediately. "Ana..."

"Is everything okay?" I ask cautiously.

He sighs, gesturing for us to go back inside. "Yes, but unfortunately, I have to leave you early. I've got a business dealing going south and the only way to save it is to get to Grey House immediately."

"Oh," I say in surprise and disappointment. "Christian, it's fine. Don't worry about it."

He shakes his head. "It's really not fine," he counters, closing the distance between us and resting his hands on my hips. "I was hoping to have breakfast with you and take you to the airport."

"We'll be fine," I assure him, rubbing his forearms comfortingly.

Leaning in, he rests his forehead against mine. "I hope so," he breathes. "I'm going to miss you—both of you."

I smile. "We'll miss you, too, but we'll see you soon, right?"

He smirks. "Count on it, baby," be murmurs. Before I know what's happening, our lips are connected and moving slowly together. It's an amazing kiss, one of the best we've had together, and that's saying a lot. He groans in reluctance as he pulls away, his eyelids heavy and a smile on his lips. "I suppose that will have to hold us over for a while." I gasp when he presses his hips against mine, feeling just how much he enjoyed that kiss. "The effect you have on me, Miss Steele..."

"You have the same one on me, Mr. Grey," I say coyly, looking up at him through my hair.

Eyebrows rising, I know I've surprised him again. "Anastasia, there are some things you shouldn't say to a man when he has no choice but to leave you," he chides. "It's just cruel."

"You'll survive," I reply teasingly.

"We'll see," he mutters in response. "Taylor will be here to pick you up and take you and Caleb to the airport later and I suppose it's only fair to tell you I've taken the liberty of upgrading your tickets to first-class—the two of you will be more comfortable. And please don't argue."

"I wasn't planning to argue, Christian," I inform him. "Thank you."

"Oh," he says, blinking in surprise. "You're welcome." His brow furrows and I think this is the first time I've accepted anything from him without a fight. He sighs. "I'd like to say goodbye to Caleb, then I need to go..."

Nodding, I follow him into the bedroom, leaning against the door and watch as Christian gently takes Caleb from the crib, kisses his forehead, murmurs something to him, and puts him back, all without waking him. He stands there for a minute or so, soaking in the sight of his son before swallowing hard, and turning to face me. I walk him to the door, wishing he didn't have to leave.

"I'll see you soon," he promises, brushing my cheek with his thumb before kissing me again. "Take care of yourself, Ana—and our son."

I gasp at his words, realizing this is the first time I've heard him utter them. He grins at me, then winks. "Laters, baby." With that, he's gone again and I have no idea what to do with myself now...


	7. Chapter 7

Four days have passed since Caleb and I left Seattle. Every spare second we've had, Christian and I have talked on the phone, emailed, and texted, and with every conversation, I can feel us getting closer than we ever were before. I suspect some of the change is due to our son; whatever happens, Caleb is a permanent link between us. But it's more than that; we've talked more candidly than ever, admitted that we both have fears and reservations in regards to our relationship. We've gotten to know each other better from long distance than we did last year, though I know that's because we're not spending every minute of our day in bed together. He told me more of what the last year has been like for him and I'm still amazed at how much my leaving affected him. I'd been so convinced that once I was gone, he'd go back to his old life and forget about me. His revelation that he never had sex with any of the submissives he had in his playroom remains one of the biggest shocks I've experienced to date. Part of me thinks maybe he's lying to spare my feelings; a man like him with his sort of needs couldn't possibly go that long without sex, right? Another part of me somehow knows he was telling the truth. Yes, he had women in his playroom. They were probably naked and he admitted to beating the shit out of them, but if I can get past that aspect of things, I know Christian and I will have a future together.

The uncertainty still remains. What if, when all this initial excitement wears off, he decides this is the very last thing in the world he wants?

I saw the look on his face the first time he held Caleb, though. I saw tears fall from his eyes. He might not be ready for a child—I sure as hell wasn't—but I know he'll do absolutely anything for both of us. I can only hope "absolutely anything" means rethinking some of his lifestyle choices—at least the ones that involve whips and canes. For the most part, I really enjoyed the rest of what we did together. Even thinking about it a year later, I flush in excitement at the memory of the things he did to me. I can hardly walk through the wine section of the grocery store without looking at the bottles and remembering the unconventional uses Christian and I participated in—there was the evening with the teacups, then when he decided he was thirsty before bed...

Thinking about Christian has taken up all my energy to the point that I can hardly concentrate at work. At night, after talking to him, I spend hours staring at the ceiling thinking about every word we said. Right around the time I do manage to fall asleep, Caleb decides he's hungry, bored, or needs changing. As a result, by Friday, I'm exhausted, desperate for a nap, and wishing I'd taken my mother up on her offer to babysit tonight. Caleb is just as cranky as I am; he hasn't stopped screaming since I picked him up from the babysitter no matter what I do. I silently apologize to my neighbors as I move around his nursery with him in my arms, rocking him back and forth in an attempt to calm him down. It takes nearly an hour and a half, but at long last, his sobs taper off, his red face begins to relax, and his body stops heaving. Not questioning my luck, I very carefully settle him down in his crib, and back away until I'm out of the room, softly closing the door behind me. Sighing in relief, I take a moment to rest against the wall. If I'm very lucky, I can make my dinner without interruption—I'm not holding my breath.

At least I'm not until I'm in the kitchen and hear a knocking at my door. For a few moments, I freeze in place, straining my ears to hear whether the noise woke Caleb. I don't hear even a whimper from his room and sigh in relief, making my way to the door trying to figure out who could be here. I only have a couple friends here and they normally call before dropping by. I suppose it could be my mother here to insist that I let her babysit her grandson tonight.

Standing outside my door, leaning against the doorframe, is Christian Grey wearing a smile that drips in sin and satisfaction at my obviously shocked state. "Hello, Anastasia," he says in a low voice, wholly unashamed as he looks me up and down.

"Hi," I say, feeling a smile grow on my face. "What are you doing here?"

"Surprising you, I hope," he answers teasingly, shrugging. "I missed you; I wanted to see you. Do I need a reason?" Despite the bravado in his voice, I see the uncertainty and vulnerability in his eyes.

Shaking my head, I step back, holding the door open so he can enter. "No, of course not. And yes, I'm surprised."

"Good surprised or bad surprised?"

I pretend to take a moment to consider his question and the amusement in his eyes tells me he knows what I'm doing. "Good surprised," I say quietly, smiling.

He smiles shyly. "Good," he says simply, looking around the apartment. I flinch, realizing I haven't taken much chance to clean the place since I've been back home. Luckily, he doesn't seem to be judging me on my cleaning talents. "Where's Caleb?"

I grin at the eagerness in his voice to see his son. "I just put him down for a nap," I say apologetically. "He's been a bit cranky today."

"Oh." The disappointment in his eyes is adorable, though after a second, it turns into a concerned frown. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," I assure Christian.

Nodding, I see his eyes drift down the hall to where he assumes Caleb's room to be. "Is it okay that I'm here?" he asks nervously, turning back to me again. "I probably should have called first, but..."

This new uncertain Christian is fascinating and such a far cry from the man I met. "Yes, it's fine. In fact, I'm happy you're here," I admit, biting my lip and giving him my own shy look.

Before I can even blink, his eyes darken and he closes the distance between us, pinning me between him and the back of my couch. "Is that so?" he asks huskily, tugging my lip until I free it from my lip. I nod; he smiles slowly, pressing himself further into me. "I'm happy I'm here, too." His hand trails slowly up my arm, leaving fire in its wake as it moves up to cup the back of my neck. "I've been going crazy since you left on Monday and it was all I could do not to say fuck it and jump on my jet to be here by dinnertime." Before I can even consider a response, his lips are on mine, his tongue in my mouth, and he's kissing me sweetly, almost as though he's savoring me. He groans when I slip my hands around his waist and into the back pockets of his jeans, moving his lips down to my neck, tugging on my hair to give himself better access. The moment I feel one of his hands slide beneath my shirt, however, Caleb begins to cry, effectively breaking our kiss. Christian looks at me with wide, surprised eyes—I'm unsure if he's surprised at the kiss or the fact that we were interrupted.

I smile wryly. "His timing leaves something to be desired, doesn't it?" I ask as he backs away from me.

The look in his eyes suggests what he desires right now has nothing to do with our son. Flushing, I quickly slip away to Caleb's nursery. "I really hope this means you'll sleep tonight," I say in exasperation, picking him up from his crib. I swear he's glaring at me as I take him over to the changing table.

Behind me I can feel Christian's presence in the room. A casual glance over my shoulder shows that he's hesitant to enter the room. I smirk to myself. "Could you grab a diaper from the closet?" I ask him.

"Of course," he says stiffly, doing as I ask. Finally he's standing beside me, looking down at Caleb and I see both of them start to relax. I blink a few times in surprise, wondering if Caleb's crankiness could be a result of separation anxiety from his father after only one meeting.

It's heartwarming and sweet, and I'm suddenly happier than before that Christian is here.

By the time I'm done changing Caleb's diaper and redressing him in a clean onesie, both boys are smiling at each other and I'm tempted to leave in search of my camera.

"So," Christian begins when the three of us are in the living room again, "I don't know if you two had plans tonight, but I thought I could take you to dinner."

I hesitate. Normally I would agree immediately, but I recall the places Christian frequents for meals aren't really the right atmosphere to take a baby.

"What?" Christian asks, his shoulders dropping in disappointment.

"Nothing. I'm just not sure Caleb is old enough for fine dining," I say carefully, hoping not to hurt Christian's feelings.

He grins at me. "That's all?" he asks in relief. "Ana, we can go wherever you feel most comfortable. But I really want to take you out—like a family..."

How is it that a man who walks through life with such confidence be reduced to a lost little boy with just a few words? Like a family. Christian wants us to be a family. I swallow hard against my emotion, nodding. "Okay," I say quietly. "We'd love to go out."

He beams at me and my response, dispatching me to get dressed while he spends time with Caleb and makes a phone call, probably to Taylor to make arrangements for dinner. In the meantime, I struggle to find something to wear that isn't the baggy clothes that are my normal after work, before bed wardrobe, but that doesn't look as though I'm trying to impress Christian. When I find the light blue shirt towards the back of my closet, the one Christian had Taylor pick up for me the night he took me to the Heathman, I smirk, and when I find it still fits even though I haven't quite lost all the baby weight, I think I could cheer.

I get Caleb's diaper bag, slip on a pair of sandals, and rejoin Christian in the living room, finding him at the wall staring at a series of pictures. My mother insisted on taking a picture of me every month as my pregnancy progressed and put them all in a wooden frame surrounding one of Caleb and me shortly after his birth that she gave me when I came home from the hospital.

"You look beautiful in these," Christian says quietly, not turning away from the frame as he rubs Caleb's back. "Sad, but beautiful."

I snort a laugh. "I'm not sure about the beautiful part," I mutter. "I felt bloated and miserable most of the time and towards the end, I could barely get my feet into my shoes because they were so swollen." I wince, unable to believe I just told him that; I'm sure that doesn't do much of anything to attract him to me.

He turns to me, smiling in a way that doesn't meet his eyes. "I always think you're beautiful," he says. "What about the sad part?"

I shrug uneasily; he nods, not needing me to elaborate since we've already had this discussion. "Shall we?" I ask quietly. "I've just got to stop by my car and get Caleb's car seat."

He smirks suddenly. "Ana, that won't be necessary," he says smugly. "I bought one on the way over."

I manage to refrain from rolling my eyes. "Of course you did," I mutter. I imagine whatever he picked up is the top of the line, state of the art, NASA tested and approved product on the market.

"Anastasia," he says in mock-disapproval, "I know you haven't forgotten how important it is that I know the people who meant he most to me are safe at all times."

How could I have possibly forgotten? When he begins to smirk again, I roll my eyes at him, causing him to raise an eyebrow at me, and lead the way out of the apartment. It doesn't escape my notice that Christian doesn't even attempt to hand Caleb over to me as we take the elevator to the ground floor and outside where Taylor is predictably waiting beside an SUV, opening the door as we approach. I see his eyes widen behind his sunglasses at the sight of Caleb. There's no way he was unaware of my son's existence, especially with Christian purchasing a car seat.

"Taylor, this is my son Caleb," Christian says proudly, adjusting Caleb so Taylor could get a better look at him.

"Congratulations, sir," Taylor says with a genuine smile. "And to you, too, Miss Steele."

"Thank you, Taylor," I murmur, blushing.

Christian is already buckling Caleb into the car seat that actually does look like something from a space shuttle. I can imagine Christian grilling the people at the store for safety stats and not being satisfied until he got exactly what he wanted. "After you, Anastasia," Christian says when Caleb is securely fastened in his seat.

With a smile, I climb into the car. Christian closes the door and walks around to the other side to get in. Casually, I test the tightness of the straps holding Caleb in place; I'm impressed to find them perfect, though I probably shouldn't be. Christian does just about everything perfectly, so why should this be any different?

The drive to the family-oriented restaurant is filled with light conversation punctuated by Caleb's gurgles that never fail to make Christian smile. Once at our destination, Christian expertly removes the car seat from its base to carry into the restaurant while I grab the diaper bag. We walk inside and I try to hide my amusement at the thought that this is the very last place I would have ever expected to see Christian Grey. The atmosphere is casual, the walls covered in pop culture memorabilia, and the best dressed person in sight is a man who seems to have ironed his jeans and t-shirt. But Christian doesn't even blink an eye at the casualness and we follow the hostess to a table. She brings us a highchair and I watch Christian struggle with the decision of whether or not Caleb will be safe if he sets the car seat on top of the highchair.

"Christian, it's fine," I tell him reassuringly. "I promise. This isn't the first time I've taken him out to eat."

Sighing, Christian nods and carefully setting Caleb down, double and triple-checking he's steady, then moves to pull my chair out for me. We both scan the menu, discussing whether we want an order of fried cheese or potato skins as an appetizer. After placing our orders, I open the diaper bag for Caleb's bottle, pausing questioningly when Christian takes a breath to speak. "May I feed him?" he asks eagerly.

"Sure," I reply easily, passing him the bottle. I'm not foolish enough to decline help when the person offering looks like the task would make their life complete.

"So you like it here in Savannah?" Christian asks casually as Caleb accepts the bottle.

I shrug, sipping at my soda. "I'm not big on the heat, but aside from that, it's nice. I'm close enough to my mom to put both our minds to rest, I enjoy my job, and the people are nice for the most part."

He nods broodingly. "Good," he says stiffly. "I'm glad."

I raise an eyebrow. "Are you?"

He looks up at me sharply, his eyes narrow. "I'm glad you're happy," he says carefully. "I can't say I'm a particular fan of the distance, but for now, I don't seem to have much choice in the matter."

Is it just me or does he sound a little bitter? I decide to change the subject before this one turns into an argument. "Have you thought at all on telling the rest of your family about Caleb?" I ask.

"A little," he says quietly. "Mostly I'm trying to decide whether it would be better or worse if you were present. I'm tempted to tell them, let the news sink in, then introduce them to Caleb."

I'm still working out how I feel about telling his family at all. Of course I want them to know; I'm just afraid they'll resent me for keeping Christian's son a secret for all this time. I don't doubt that they'll accept Caleb on sight, but will I be welcome at father gatherings?

"They're not going to hate you." Christian's voice breaks into my thoughts and I look up at him, startled that he can still read my mind. "They might be a little... irritated at first, but they'll get over it. Particularly when they realize that I don't hold any sort of grudge against you."

I sit straighter in my seat. "Why don't you hold a grudge against me?" I ask him before I can think about my words.

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Do you want me to hold a grudge against you?" he asks, surprised.

"Not particularly," I say quickly. "But I wouldn't blame you if you did."

Caleb finishes off his bottle and Christian sets it down on the table, giving me his full attention. "Ana," he sighs, shaking his head in strained patience. "I've already said I understand your reasons for leaving and not telling me about Caleb. I meant that. I wouldn't have been ready to be a father last year and while I've had brief feelings of betrayal, but they've been fleeting. I'm just happy you're letting me in now; it's barely been a week, but I already can't imagine going through life without either of you. You've given me something I never thought I'd have, Ana, and for that I will always be grateful.

"So please, don't worry about what others think about us. It doesn't matter to me; the only opinion that means a damn to me is yours and mine is the only one that should mean anything to you."

Speechless, I stare at Christian for several minutes, only looking away when our meals arrive at the table. After a few bites of my meal, I take a deep breath to speak. "Your opinion does matter to me," I tell him quietly. "More than just about anybody's. I'm just relieved you don't resent me..."

"I could never," he says without hesitation. His brow furrows as though there's something he really wants to say, but is uncertain about whether he should or not. In the end, he shakes his head and orders dessert for us, changing the subject to ask about my job, and the rest of our dinner is pleasant, mostly because Caleb is happily gurgling away until he falls asleep in his car seat. When I sneak away to use the restroom before we leave, I come back to find Christian taking pictures of his son with his phone. It looks like he's taken about a hundred or so since I've been away and I grin at him as I sit down again.

He shrugs unapologetically. "I only have the one," he says, pocketing his phone again. "Besides, he's cute; who wouldn't want pictures of him?"

Once Christian pays our bill, absolutely refusing to even acknowledge me when I attempt to offer to chip in, we head back out to the SUV where Taylor is always waiting. Christian is quiet and brooding on the drive home and I have no idea what brought on this change of mood, though when I begin to wonder where Christian is staying while he's here, I get the idea he's thinking the same thing. Should I ask him? Maybe offer to let him stay in my apartment in the guestroom?

I chicken out by the time we pull into the parking lot and Christian is out the door, removing Caleb from the car before I even take off my seatbelt. I rush around to catch up with them and Christian looks down at me, finally slowing down and gives me an apologetic smile. "Sorry," he mutters. "Lost in my thoughts, I suppose."

As I start to respond, a voice interrupts me. "Ana!" I spin around and find what I know most women would consider the world's most perfect man. Tall, dark, and handsome with dark brown hair, gorgeous green eyes and a washboard stomach. And he's displaying that washboard stomach as he jogs towards us from the pool, shirtless, dripping in water, and his swim shorts hanging in a way that they should fall off with the slightest movement. As he reaches us, he gives me a bright white, wide smile before pulling me into a hug. Automatically, mostly to keep my balance, my arms wrap around his back hugging him back. "How was your trip to Seattle?"

"Oh, it was good," I say as we break apart. "It was nice to see everybody."

He smiles knowingly. "Well, I'm sorry I wasn't able to pick you up from the airport—we've got three practices a day going until playoffs and I wasn't able to cut out like I'd hoped." Before I can tell him it was no problem, he's looking around. "So where's the little man?"

Wincing, I turn around, knowing I'm about to find a very angry Christian Grey standing feet from me. When I look, though, he's watching the interaction between me and another man impassively, and the grip he has on Caleb's car seat handle has turned his knuckles white. "Um, Christian, this is Joe Battaglia, one of my neighbors," I say hastily. "Joe, this is—"

"Christian Grey," Joe finishes for me. "Yeah, I know of him. Did a paper on you when I went to Harvard; never thought I'd actually meet you, though." He thrusts a hand out for Christian to shake, but Christian does nothing but stare at him. Joe shrugs, dropping his hand, and glancing down at Caleb. "He's getting big, Ana."

"Yes, he is," I say weakly, willing Christian to look at me. "We should get going, Joe; it's nearly bath time."

Joe smirks. "Always a good time to be had there," he mutters wryly. "I should get back to the gym anyway. We'll get together next week, yeah, Ana?" I nod jerkily, giving him a tight smile that seems to satisfy him for the moment, then he turns to Christian. "It was an honor to meet you, Christian. Maybe we can chat later."

Christian doesn't respond, but I feel the anger building up in him when Joe leans down to press a kiss to my cheek. With a wink, he turns around and jogs back to the pool as though he didn't just set off the beginning of World War III. The time between leaving Joe and arriving at my apartment has the feel of me walking into my execution. Christian hasn't said a word, hasn't looked at me, and I have no idea how this is going to go; though past experience with José makes me thankful he didn't beat the shit out of Joe on sight. Whatever happens next will no doubt be an overreaction and I'm not sure I have the energy for it.

I close the door of my apartment and lean against it, waiting, as Christian sets a still-sleeping Caleb on the floor in his car seat. He takes a few minutes to stare down at his son as though he's mentally filing through all of his thoughts, my actions and his, and the meeting of Joe.

Finally he turns to me, his jaw tense and his eyes completely unreadable. "What. The. Fuck. Was that, Ana?" he asks, punctuating every word with a step closer to me. He stops about six feet from me, careful to keep us just out of arm's reach of one another.

I was right. I don't have the energy for this... "Christian, you really need to relax," I say quietly.

"Relax?" he sneers. "Some douchebag practically mauls you in the parking lot and you want me to relax?"

"That was hardly mauling," I say, deadpan. "I think 'mauling' would involve a bit more interaction than that."

"Who is he?" he growls.

I roll my eyes, not caring that his eyes flash in further annoyance or how his hands begin to clench and unclench. "He's a friend, Christian. He lives in the building. That's all."

"Doesn't Georgia have laws against indecent exposure?" he snaps. "The dick was walking around practically naked. And you have a son!"

Biting back every sarcastic response that comes to the tip of my tongue, I walk around Christian, wanting a bit more space between us. "You want to talk to me about indecent exposure?" I ask him. "What about the elevator at the Heathman, Christian? Or at your parents' house during dinner, or later in the boathouse when your sister nearly caught us? Oh, and there's the Heathman again in the private room over dinner—what was it you wanted to do to me again? Bend me over the table and fuck me?"

His eyes darken further. "That's different," he growls dangerously.

"Why is it different? Because it was you and not somebody else? Don't be a fucking hypocrite, Christian," I snap. "You have no say in who I spend time with; you and I are not together."

"So what, you're fucking him?" Christian asks through clenched teeth, ignoring everything I just said.

"If I were, that would be my choice," I say.

"You think so?" he asks softly, his tone turning dangerous as he stalks towards me again. I back away until I hit the wall and he boxes me in with his arms. "We're not together, Anastasia? It's not my business if you're fucking some guy? Have you forgotten that you're the mother of my child and therefore I get an opinion about who spends time around my son?"

It feels like he's just slapped me. "Fuck you, Christian," I say tightly, trying to hold back my tears. I know what he's doing as he leans in closer—he's going to try to fix all of this with a kiss, possibly more. Without thinking through my sudden need for distance between us, I reach up and press my hands against his chest, pushing him away from me. He stumbles back, wide-eyed and pale, and I can't tell if the look in his eyes is fear, pain, anger, or misery—or possibly a combination of all four. It's a reaction I tried to avoid seeing during the time we were together and I know I should probably apologize for touching him, knowing what would happen. "If I were fucking Joe," I say quietly, holding his gaze, "at least he would let me touch him."

It's a low blow. It's cruel and uncalled for, and when Christian's shoulders slump, I know I really fucked this one up. He glares at me, anger turning to desolation in a matter of seconds. Shaking his head, he turns away from me, hesitates at the door, but doesn't speak; instead he opens the door, exits, and slams it shut behind him, making me jump and Caleb wake up, crying.

As I comfort my upset son, I wonder why I thought this would go any other way. Christian is jealous and possessive at the best of times, and those traits have only strengthened since finding out about Caleb. This is going to take a lot to fix and I'm not sure if he'll be able to forgive me this time.


	8. Chapter 8

Last night was an absolute fucking catastrophe. It started out well enough—the look of surprise on Ana's face when she found me outside the door was perfect—and I loved being able to take her and Caleb out to dinner. It felt right to be with them again after spending a week wanting nothing more than to see them. I had plans for the rest of our evening—nothing extravagant; I was going to ask whether Ana minded if I stayed the night, planning on taking the couch. I was going to help her with Caleb's bedtime routine, whatever that might be, then spend the rest of our time talking about all the things I've been desperate to tell her since I saw her sitting in a booth at the Mile High Club with my family. I'd planned to take things slow with her, wait for her to make the first move, despite the urge I felt to press her against the nearest solid surface and fuck her until she screamed—I'm still fighting that urge.

But that was before we arrived back at her apartment and I met her very overly friendly neighbor. If I hadn't been carrying my son at that exact moment, I would have ripped that guy's head right off with my bare hands. And that was before he put his hands all over Ana. Dozens of thoughts went through my mind—Ana may have said she isn't seeing anybody when she was in Seattle, but I clearly recall Kate baiting me with information about "a really cute guy". I'd dismissed her words and in light of the revelations that night, assumed Kate had been talking about Caleb. So was I wrong?

Even if I wasn't, I think Ana made it perfectly clear where she and I stand.

Pacing my hotel room, I think once again about the last words she said to me. "_At least he would let me touch him..."_ And naturally, my mind is filled with images of Anastasia wrapped in the douchebag's arms, touching him everywhere she's ever wanted to touch me but couldn't because of my phobia. She deserves a man she can touch without him having a panic attack and wanting to punch a wall.

Now that I think about it, though, the only urge to punch I had was to punch the douchebag. Even after Ana pushed me away, her palms flat against my chest, I was angrier that we were fighting than anything else. I always thought her touch might be different than anybody else's; I never thought even for a second that she could harm me. I was just afraid. Of everything, but mostly of my feelings for her. That remains true even now. Nobody can anger me or push my buttons the way she can, and I know I have the same effect on her. That has to mean something...

Growling, I drop into a chair at the desk and press a button on my laptop that brings up a view of an apartment door—Ana's apartment door to be specific. While we were at dinner last night, Taylor took the liberty of installing a camera across from her door to keep an eye on who comes and goes. So far, I'm the last person to open that door. Taylor worked with Barney to hack into the building's security cameras. In addition to that, Taylor has brought on a new member of the security team, Luke Sawyer, to keep an eye on Ana and Caleb when they leave the apartment. He was waiting for them when they arrived in the airport. I probably should have mentioned her new security detail today and I would have, if I hadn't stalked out of her apartment before I did something I'd regret for the rest of my life.

The more I stare at her door, longing for her to open it just for a second, the more I realize there is no way I can even think about leaving Savannah before fixing whatever I can between Ana and me, if for no other reason than for our son.

I sigh when my laptop pings, alerting me of an email. My eyes widen when I see the sender, then the subject. For the first time ever, I hesitate before opening the message. Can I handle this, even if she's telling me we're done now and there is no hope for us ever in the future?

Who am I kidding? I can't ever resist Anastasia Steele and this is no different.

* * *

**To: Christian Grey**

**From: Anastasia Steele**

**Subject: Overreactions**

Dear Christian,

I hardly know what to say right now or how to even begin apologizing for what I said to you last night. It was unfair and cruel to you, and I really am sorry. I was upset and hurt that after we seemed to have had such a good evening together, one run-in with an overly friendly neighbor, you went absolutely thermonuclear on me. Having spent the night and this morning thinking, I can understand your reaction to a point. I know what you're like, and it's part of the reason I've always been attracted to you. Before you, I wouldn't have thought anybody would want to be jealous and overprotective because of me. Before you, I was little, mousy, bookish Ana Steele who just wanted to get through her college exams in one piece. Before you, I wasn't really living.

Leaving Seattle was not an easy decision for me. The morning Taylor dropped me off at my and Kate's apartment is still mostly a blur in my mind. I was confused, exhausted, and heartbroken. I wanted nothing more than to figure out a way to work things out with you—but the second I sat on the couch, I remembered my sore ass, and remembered why I left in the first place. By the end of the night, I came to my decision and called my mom to say I was going to stay with her for a few weeks. I don't know if she figured out what was going on from my tone of voice, but of course, she agreed to let me stay as long as I needed. So I cashed your check—and I'm still convinced you gave me way too much for that old Beetle, collectible or not—and I left. I considered sticking around a little longer, maybe talking to you one last time; I knew if I did, you'd convince me to stay and I'd fold.

A few weeks into my stay in Savannah, I started feeling sick. Every theory from summer flu to suffering from a broken heart was thrown in my direction until I started putting all my symptoms together and bought a pregnancy test. I was terrified to look at that test and worse than that when I saw it was positive. Christian, you have no idea the panic I went through that night. Should I tell you? Should I keep it to myself? Should I keep the baby? For the record, I never considered, even for a second, terminating my pregnancy. I did, however, consider adoption.

As time went on, and I got a little more accustomed to the idea that I was about to be a mother, I considered calling you or at least emailing. Kate encouraged me to tell you—say what you like about her, but she was on your side. I'm the one who decided against it and I hated that you weren't sharing it with me, but I was afraid of risking further rejection. It was selfish and I'm sorry for not involving you sooner. I missed you every day, never stopped caring for you or thinking of you. My mom tried to set me up on a few dates in the hopes of getting me past you. Those dates were miserable, the guys boring, and they never got so much as a good night kiss. She finally gave up after a while, though I think that was more because of my expanding stomach than her determination to find love for me.

The day Caleb was born was the first time in seven and a half months that I actually smiled. From the second I saw him, I knew he would take after you in every way—looks, personality, temperament. And I wasn't wrong. He was the only connection I ever thought I'd have with you again. Until the wedding.

Christian, seeing you again has been... amazing for want of a better word. I still miss you, I still care about you... I still love you. And I very clearly remember your response the last time I said those words to you; that doesn't stop me from feeling it.

I'll never lie to you, Christian, just as I hope you'll never lie to me. Joe really is a friend and nothing more. I'm not blind; I know damn well he's attracted to me and would probably take the first opportunity to do something about it. The problem is that I'm not interested in him like that. Not really. Yes, he's attractive and sweet and fun, but as it turns out there is only one man in the world who interests me these days. Maybe one day if you and I never saw each other again, Joe and I might be more, but my decision would be made because I've given up on real happiness and settled on comfortable.

When you told me you didn't have sex with those submissives, I believed you. It hurt when you continued to question me about Joe even after telling you he's only a friend. You have been the only man I've ever been in a relationship with, the only man I've ever slept with. The only man I've ever loved. You say your feelings for me will probably never change, so why can't you believe me when I say the same about you?

I understand if I've hurt you too much to forgive me this time. I wouldn't blame you if you decided our relationship should go no further than our son. But please know that no matter what happens, I will never withhold Caleb from you. I want you to spend as much time with him as you can. The two of you deserve to know each other. Whatever you decide...

Ana

* * *

I read the email three more times, trying to decide if I'm reading this correctly. Finally, I focus on a few key phrases that are all the answers I need before I'm on my feet, grabbing my shoes and jacket. Taylor steps out of the second bedroom in my hotel suite to find out if everything is alright. The scene is so reminiscent of the night I went to Kate and Ana's apartment in Seattle only to find Ana had left that I stumble slightly, hoping history isn't repeating itself.

"I'm fine, Taylor," I say quietly. "Take the night off."

Taylor nods and I'm out of the room before he can say a word.

Half an hour later, I'm outside Ana's door again, uncertain whether this is the right thing to do. I'm still angry and I know she is, too. The smartest thing to do would be take a couple days to ourselves, go about our daily lives, and call her when we've both had a chance to calm down.

I smirk. When it comes to Anastasia Steele, "the smartest thing" very rarely comes into play. More often than not, I throw every one of my rule books right out the window, rewriting my entire life for her, and this isn't going to be any different. Adjusting my shirt, I knock on the door and wait for her to open it. For a few horrible moments, I wonder if in the time it took me to drive here from my hotel she left, perhaps to join Joe Douchebag for dinner.

Then I hear a gasp and can see her eye through the peephole. A few moments later, she's unbolted the door and stares at me in shock—more shock than she did last night when she found me here.

"Christian," she whispers. I swallow hard, realizing she and I must have had similar days—she looks as tired and miserable as I feel, though it hits me that she's also spent the day taking care of Caleb.

"Hello, Ana," I say quietly, keeping my tone and expression even. "May I come in?"

She nods, her eyes wide and nervous. "Of course," she replies, stepping aside for me.

I enter and feel myself smile before I can stop it. Caleb is on a mat on the floor below a row of hanging stuffed animals that he is working to kick, grinning whenever he makes contact with one. Without thinking, I cross the room to him and kneel down. His eyes find me and I can't help but feel like he's happy to see me.

"He's been working on kicking those things for hours," Ana says softly, sitting down on Caleb's other side. "The whole coordination thing is new for him—only been in the last few days or so that he's gotten any real control of his muscles when he actually wants to."

I throw her a brief smile of acknowledgment, turning back to our son. Caleb amuses us for close to half an hour before he rolls himself over and decides it's time for a nap. Ana pushes herself to her feet, muttering something about putting him in his crib and being right back. I nod, not meeting her eyes as she leaves the room, and only stand when my eyes catch sight of the wallpaper on her computer screen. It's a slideshow of photos of us ranging from the ones taken by Jose to be used for the WSU when I spent most of my time watching Ana in her tight blue jeans to the one taken on her graduation day, the first one of us together, to several taken at Kate and Elliot's wedding—a few of us dancing together, one where we're just looking at each other. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she and I were the bride and groom that day...

That thought is a startling one, but what is most startling is that it's not as foreign a thought as it once was.

"Sorry. He's starting to get picky about what he needs before bedtime. Ray got him this projector when he was born that puts stars on the walls and moves around the room. It's getting glitchy so I have to stand there tweaking it until it actually stays on..."

I file this information away for another time, glancing back at the computer screen just as a photo of Caleb and me pops up. It was taken at Ana's hotel in Seattle while she was napping when I sat in a chair with Caleb sleeping against my chest. When did she take this?

"I'm glad you're here," she says quietly as we finally sit down. "Christian, I'm sorry. I was a complete bitch to you last night when all you wanted was to spend time with your son." I raise an eyebrow, refraining from correcting her. "I've spent the last year doing only what I think is best for Caleb and whenever something comes up that challenges me, I strike out without thinking. Maybe it's instinct or something, I don't know. Joe is a friend. Truly, just a friend. I have no interest in dating him. He's a sweet guy and I'm sure there are plenty of women lining up at his door, but I'm not now nor will I ever be one of them. I'm sure I could try, but I'd fail. It's like you said, the only person I could ever genuinely react to and that won't change—"

I hadn't planned on letting her ramble on this long, but now that she has, every ounce of anger has drained from my body, replaced with something much more satisfying. Before she can go on, my hands are in her hair and I crush my lips to hers. The moment she begins to respond, I pull her onto my lap, using one hand to cup her face, the other to hold her body against mine. We break apart when the need to breathe rudely interrupts and she takes several deep breaths, looking at me in confusion. Any second now, she's going to ask me what's going on. I need to say something first...

"I love you," I whisper, looking into her eyes.

She freezes, holding her breath while I can see her mind replaying my words. "What?" she asks in disbelief.

Now that I've said it once, it comes much easier. I smile at her, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I said," I cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer until her lips are nearly touching mine, "I love you, Anastasia Steele. I've probably loved you from the moment we met, but I didn't realize it until you were gone. Even when you said the words to me, all I could think about was that you deserved someone..." I look around for the right word, shrugging when I fail, "good. Someone who could love you back... Someone you could touch." She opens her mouth to speak; I place a finger over her lips to stop her, taking her hands from where they rest on my forearms and very slowly place them against my chest, not taking my eyes from her. I know it's not what she wants—skin-to-skin—but it's the best I can do right now.

Judging by the tears in her eyes, she understands exactly what I'm doing. "I love you, too," she whispers, staring at my hands as they hold hers in place. "And for the record, you are a good person, Christian. Only a good person could put up me without wanting to give up."

"I'm never giving up on you, Ana," I whisper. "I just hope you won't give up on me."

She's speechless and I take advantage that fact by continuing our kiss. To my relief, she puts her hands into my hair holding me in place and I let my hands wander. She's different than I remember. The last few times we've kissed in the last week, it's been frantic, almost desperate, and I didn't have time to properly explore. Her body was perfect for me when we first met, but now it's somehow better than that. She has a few more curves and I groan, realizing my hands still fit like we're pieces of a puzzle.

My fingers find their way beneath her shirt and I trace the line on her belly that I assume to be her C-section scar, and she suddenly pulls away, looking nervous. I frown, not pleased with the distance she's put between us. It takes me a moment to figure out that she's self-conscious about the scar; perhaps she believes I'll think it makes her unattractive. _Oh, Miss Steele... You couldn't be more wrong..._

I grin slowly, reaching down to slowly lift up her shirt, not taking my eyes from hers until her belly is uncovered and her shirt is beside us on the couch. She's only wearing a bra, but I manage to rein in my desire for the moment. She needs this more... I examine the scar first with my eyes, then gently with a finger, tracing the line until she gasps. "This is quite possibly the sexiest change on your body, Anastasia," I say quietly. "Do you know why?" She shakes her head, eyes wide again. "Because it's proof of what you went through in order to deliver our child. Even alone and scared, you were strong enough to bring a beautiful, incredible child into the world and I couldn't be more grateful to you for that."

She takes a breath to speak several times, but can never quite get out the words. Finally, she shakes her head slightly and smiles at me. "I love you," she mouths.

"Ditto, baby," I mutter, smirking as I flip us so that she's on her back on the couch and I'm leaning over us. When she giggles, she only increases my desire; I lower myself to rest my weight on top of her. We're lost in each other again, our bodies touching in every way possible with our clothes still between us. Last year, we'd be naked and I'd have her tied up by now, but I'm doing things different; she deserves to be savored, to feel like she's loved and cherished.

I have no idea how much time passes before we break apart again. At first I don't realize why we've stopped; then I hear Caleb causing a fuss down the hall. "Does he do this on purpose?" I ask her, lifting off her.

She grins. "I wouldn't know," she says, sitting up. "You're the only man I've made out with, though I'm starting to think he's got a sixth sense for this."

"Well, I'm very happy to hear you haven't been making out with anybody else," I say, raising a stern eyebrow at her, really hoping that is what she meant. She only smirks as she pulls her shirt back on. I consider questioning her, but think of a better way to spend the next few minutes. "Would you mind if I got him?"

She stops as she starts to head into Caleb's room, turning back to me in surprise. "Of course not," she answers, smiling softly. "He's all yours."

I stand up, walking to her and cupping her cheeks, pressing a brief kiss to her lips. "He's all _ours_, Anastasia."

Once again, I've shocked her and I'm really starting to enjoy that particular expression on her face. Rather than standing there and soaking it up, I head down the hallway. My son is waiting.


	9. Chapter 9

"You know, I don't think I really believed I'd ever see this," I say wistfully, walking into the bathroom where Christian is giving Caleb a bath. Christian hasn't left our side since he showed up again last night and I'm starting to get spoiled by his presence and his eagerness to do all the things a parent does. I watched him change his first diaper and he didn't even flinch when Caleb hit him in the face with a stream of pee. In my defense, I did try to warn him, but Christian Grey, billionaire CEO didn't need my advice. He only rolled his eyes at me, grinning wryly when I doubled over in laughter after I tossed him a towel.

Christian glances at me over his shoulder with a smile before he turns his attention back to Caleb and the expensive baby bathtub Taylor delivered earlier in the day along with several boxes of toys and clothes that, even if he wore two different outfits a day, still wouldn't get through all of them by his third birthday. I knew Christian would spoil his son rotten, but at some point, we're going to have to discuss over-extravagance. If he keeps this up, I'll need a bigger apartment. Then again, perhaps his plan is to fill my apartment so full of things for Caleb that he has no choice but to move us out to Seattle and into his big, mostly empty penthouse.

"Why's that?" he asks, his voice twisting in amusement.

I shrug, leaning against the sink. "A lot of reasons," I admit, really not wanting to rehash all my guilty feelings about not involving Christian in his son's life before now. We spent most of last night curled up on the couch together, just talking, and we both felt better because of it. "Come on, Christian, last year, when I fell into your office for that interview... If I'd told you one year later you'd be here bathing your son, would you have believed me?"

Amusement is in his eyes at first, then it fades into something much softer—all because I referred to Caleb as his son. "No, Anastasia," he replies seriously. "I definitely would not have believed you. Hell, one _month_ ago, I'm not sure I would have believed it." He shakes his head in wonder as he gently runs a washcloth down Caleb's tiny chest, eliciting a giggle when he hits a ticklish spot. The look of pure bliss and adoration on Christian's face at the sound matches mine perfectly. There is nothing better than baby laughter to break what could be a tense moment.

Bath time ends and I start to hand the onesie I picked out for him to wear, but Christian waves it away when I try to hand it to him. "Actually, I thought he could wear that one." He points to something on the edge of the sink and I pick it up, shaking it out, and promptly laugh. It's a onesie that looks exactly like the suits Christian typically wears to work and when I turn it over, I shake my head, still laughing. "_Future CEO, Grey Enterprise Holdings, Inc,"_ I read, handing it to Christian. "Cute."

He beams. "It's never too early to dress for success," he says smugly as he dresses Caleb, pressing a smacking kiss on the baby's cheek when he finishes. Caleb grins at him. Prepared for moments like these, I pull the camera from behind my back and snap a couple pictures.

Once Caleb is asleep, Christian and I head out to the living room where he lounges on the couch and I lie down with my head resting in his lap. He raises an eyebrow. "This has possibilities," he murmurs, tucking my hair behind my hair.

"Does it now?" I counter. "And what might those be?"

He sighs in response, linking our fingers together and resting our hands on my stomach. I try to hide my disappointment. There have been several moments since last night when Christian would press me against a wall, floor, couch, or just him and kiss me like doing anything else would cause the end of the world. All those times, I expected him to push things further—this is Christian Grey, after all—but he always ends it before I'm ready. I asked him earlier during Caleb's naptime why he's doing this and his explanation left me less than satisfied.

"I just don't want to rush things this time," he told me, nuzzling against my neck. "I'm afraid that if we move too fast, I'll only end up chasing you away again. Besides, every time things start to get interesting," he palms my breast, squeezing gently, "Caleb interrupts."

I sort of understand where he's coming from. We moved from not knowing each other to him tying me to his bed in what felt like a flash of a second, and that ended with me fleeing the state, unknowingly carrying his child. He overwhelmed me and that led to a year of misery for both of us, so maybe he's making the decision that is best for us. All I really know right now is that the more time we spend together, kissing, touching, or just talking, the more I want him and he knows it. He just won't do anything about it...

"So I was thinking," he says quietly, tracing shapes on my exposed belly after he's pushed my shirt up, "that I could take you and Caleb to breakfast tomorrow. How's IHOP sound? It was quite enjoyable last time as I recall..."

I grin slowly, remembering last time with perfect clarity. Following his surprise at the airfield with the glider, we had breakfast at IHOP where I would have been perfectly happy sneaking away into the restrooms with him for a sweet ending to our meal. He denied me that time; maybe I'll have better luck a second time around...

"That sounds... delicious," I say, blinking up innocently at him. He raises an eyebrow, indicating he knows I'm talking about much more than breakfast. "Though I think Caleb is still a little too young for pancakes." I frown suddenly, a thought popping into my mind that I wondered about Friday night when he took us out. "Christian... What happens if someone sees us while we're out together?"

His other eyebrow joins the first. "That does tend to happen when you're in public, Anastasia," he says teasingly. He searches my expression for an explanation, swallowing hard. "Are you ashamed to be seen with me?"

I sit up suddenly, moving to straddle him. "No," I say firmly. "It's not that at all. I swear..." He frowns, still not understanding where I'm going. "I just wondered what would happen if someone from the media spotted us together and published a picture. Your family would see it before we've had the chance to tell them about Caleb."

He relaxes as though he suspected something much more devastating than a paparazzi ambush. "Well, if that happens, it happens," he says simply, his hands finding my hips. "It's certainly not the way I would want them to find out, but I have no intention of locking you and Caleb in this apartment just because some fucker with a camera might spot us having dinner someplace." He sighs when I don't respond. "Ana, I will sort my family out, I promise." He pauses for a moment as though a thought has popped into his mind. "You really want to tell them?"

I nod. "They deserve to know," I whisper.

He smiles, kissing my chin. "Then how about tomorrow morning, after breakfast, we'll come back here, get my parents on Skype, and tell them together? My father knows, of course, but in order to keep him from getting in trouble from my mother, I'll send him a message to tell him to play dumb." He shrugs. "He'll probably tell her the truth later."

"Skype?" I repeat, testing the word.

He looks at me hopefully. "This way you'll be able to be beside me when I tell them. I know you, Ana; you won't feel good about this until you have the opportunity to apologize for not telling them in the first place." I look away guiltily. He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I love that my family means enough to you that you want their approval."

"I think it's more that you mean enough to me that I want their approval," I correct him. "I just don't want things to be strained between you and them."

"They won't be," he assures me. "Ana, of all the things I've done over the years to cause contention between my parents and me, this is surprisingly on the low end of the spectrum."

I raise an eyebrow. "Do I even want to know what is on the other end of the spectrum?" I ask hesitantly.

He smirks. "Probably not."

I take a moment to think about what little I know about Christian before actually meeting him. And I'm startled to realize just how limited my knowledge is. I know about his birthmother and that he was adopted by the Greys. I know for six years he was essentially a sex slave for his mother's friend. I know there was some form of abuse that he endured when he was small that has resulted in a phobia so severe that he can't let anybody touch certain parts of his body. And of course, I know the lifestyle he practiced routinely that involved tying women up, beating them senseless, then fucking them until he was satisfied.

That is all I really know about his past. I have a child with a man I hardly know. Why am I not panicking?

_Maybe because his past doesn't matter?_ my subconscious suggests. _Because he loves you and Caleb, and you know he would do absolutely anything for the two of you. _

For once, I think I actually agree with her. I didn't realize until he said it how much I needed to know he felt at least as strongly as I do, and I have to wonder whether, if he'd made this declaration a year ago, we would be together in Seattle raising our son or if he would have pushed us out of his life because we didn't fit, making monetary deposits into my bank account every week as child support.

"Ana, what's wrong?" Christian asks, searching my gaze concernedly. "Where'd you go?"

I shrug, pulling away from the hold he has on my chin, watching his hand fall lamely to his side. "Nowhere important," I say, mostly honestly. "I think Skype is a good idea. And yes, it will put my mind at ease."

He's uncertain, then sighs, realizing I have no intention of sharing my actual thoughts. "Okay," he says agreeably. "I'll set it up." He pulls me closer again. "In the meantime, I say we take advantage of the time while our son is actually asleep." I perk up interestedly. He smirks. "I meant by eating that cake I smelled baking while I was giving Caleb his bath."

Of course he did... Pressing a brief kiss to his lips, I crawl off his lap, raising an eyebrow when he pouts his lips only making himself took even more appetizing than he did before. "What? You wanted cake. We aim to please, Mr. Grey."

I strut to the kitchen, very proud of the shocked expression he gave me when I walked away.

* * *

Just as I'd suspected, breakfast is perfect. Every moment since Christian came back Saturday night has been perfect and I'm eager for more of these moments—I know he is, too. He manages to distract me from our plans when we return to the apartment by making faces at Caleb in an attempt to get him to laugh. To our relief, Caleb slept through the night, allowing us to get some much needed rest following the drama of our argument.

I don't think I've ever seen him looking this relaxed and carefree. It's definitely something I want to see more often—he doesn't look even slightly like the in-control, ruthless businessman he is for most of his time. This sight gives me hope that there is a chance that he could happily turn into a family man. And that's what I want, isn't it? For us to raise our child together, maybe get married, and eventually think about having more children?

I pause, my forkful of pancake dripping in strawberry syrup halfway to my mouth. This is the first time I've ever considered giving Caleb a sibling—a little brother or sister for him to grow up with so he doesn't have to experience the loneliness of being an only child the way I did.

"You're doing some deep thinking over there, Miss Steele," Christian says teasingly, glancing between Caleb and me as though he can't decide which of us to stare at for any length of time. "Want to talk about it?"

Flushing deeply, I return to my meal, uncertain how to answer his question. He's had enough to wrap his mind around with me strolling back into his life, finding out he has a son, and getting used to all the changes that's brought along; I don't want to overwhelm him with thoughts of a future we haven't even discussed.

He sighs and I see his shoulders drop in disappointment. "Ana, please don't do that," he implores softly. "Don't be afraid to tell me anything; I want to know what you're thinking."

"Back at you, Mr. Grey," I murmur, recalling a similar conversation after the dinner with his parents when he introduced me to his family.

Tentatively, he reaches out for my hand, tracing my fingers with one of his own. "You want to know what I'm thinking?" he asks, his expression somewhere between smoldering and amusement. "Right now I'm thinking that this weekend has been one of the best of my life and I am dreading having to leave you tomorrow evening."

I swallow hard. "I'm dreading it, too," I admit.

He straightens up, eyes lighting up as though he's been waiting for this opportunity to present itself. "So come back with me," he says earnestly. "You and Caleb, come back to Seattle. We can be together and we won't have to worry about when we might next see each other. I'll set up a room for Caleb and it'll be perfect."

I sigh to myself, wondering how he managed to hold out on this for so long. "Christian..." I trail off, shaking my head as I try to figure out how I want to answer. The offer is enticing and yes, I have no doubt in my mind that he'll make it perfect for all three of us, but I still fear it's too soon...

"What can I do to convince you?" he whispers, sounding desperate.

"I don't know," I finally answer.

Again, he sighs in disappointment. "Is that the best I'm going to get right now?" he asks sadly.

I nod my answer as he takes a few deep breaths. "Christian, I'm not saying no," I say, hating the expression in his eyes. "I just think we need a bit more time to get to know each other again, to trust each other."

His brow furrows deeply as he frowns. "You don't trust me?" he asks in confusion.

"No, I do trust you," I amend quickly. "I just... I want to with absolute certainty that this is what we both want. Once I have that, then yes, I'll come back to Seattle."

Smiling widely and shyly, Christian nods once in response. "Okay, then," he says quietly. "I'm still dreading leaving you."

"So am I." I finish my breakfast, pushing my plate aside. "Let's not think about it, though; I don't want to damper the day."

He winks, raising a hand for our waitress to bring the check. "As you wish, Anastasia." After paying, he stands up and picking up Caleb while I grab the diaper bag. Now all I have to do is get through this Skype conversation in one piece...

* * *

Christian sets up his laptop while I run around in borderline panic, dressing Caleb in a little pair of khaki pants and button down shirt that makes him look more like his father than ever. Baby Christian... That's something I'd like to see, but I somehow doubt any photos from that time of his life exist. I try to comb my son's hair into some semblance of order, but he protests and my attempts are futile—no matter what I do, it still sticks up like Christian's.

"Ana," Christian says, clearly trying not to laugh at me. "He looks perfect. _You_ look perfect. Relax; it's going to be fine."

I know vocalizing my nerves will only irritate him since we've had this discussion a hundred times since deciding to do this last night, so I nod, placing Caleb in his baby swing. For now, we're keeping him out of the camera view so we can have a chance to explain to his parents. His father may already know of Caleb's existence, but I have a feeling this will still affect him just as much as it would if this was new news to him.

The laptop beats, alerting us that Christian's parents have connected to the Skype call. "Deep breaths, baby," Christian says gently, tugging my hand to pull me down beside him on the couch. I do as I'm told and am surprised when it actually helps to calm my nerves. Or maybe it's the tight, comforting grip Christian has on my hand. I give him a tight smile and a nod, and that is his signal to hit a button, turning the camera on. Suddenly the screen is filled with Grace and Carrick Grey looking just as poised and sophisticated as ever. It only makes me feel more nervous.

"It's good to see you again, Ana," Grace says, smiling genuinely at me. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

One glance at Carrick tells me he knows exactly what this is about—I'm sure Christian gave him some sort of forewarning. "Well, Ana and I have some news," Christian begins quietly, squeezing my hand reassuringly. "It's good news—very good news, actually—but it's pretty big and we didn't want to wait any longer to tell you."

Grace's eyes narrow speculatively. "Oh?" she asks suspiciously, mentally running through a list of possible responses.

Christian shoots me a look through the corner of his eyes. "Well, last year, when Ana and I broke up, as much as I wanted to go after her and try to change her mind, I didn't because I thought she was better off without me." Grace looks incredulous, a feeling I mirror. I hate how he talks about himself like this. "I didn't think I'd ever see her again so seeing her at the wedding last week was... nerve-wracking to say the least. I never got the chance to apologize for the reason she left me and I got it in my head that if I played my cards right, maybe I could somehow win her back." I stare at him openly, a little surprised that he's sharing this with his parents. "Anyway, the night of the dinner at the club, Ana had to leave suddenly, and I didn't want to let her go without at least talking to her again, so I went to her hotel room, and..."

Just as he'd done that night, Caleb begins making a fuss. If I didn't know any better, I'd say Christian and Caleb planned their perfect timing. My eyes widen nervously, looking from Christian to his parents uncertainly. Christian is smiling wryly, Grace has her mouth covered with her hands when the sound registers in her mind; even Carrick looks shocked.

Sighing in amusement, Christian rolls his eyes. "So much for the element of surprise," he mutters to me.

"Christian?" Grace breathes.

"I guess easing you into it isn't going to happen," he says to his parents. "So I'll just say it. When Ana left, she didn't know it, but she was pregnant. Given how we parted, she made the decision not to tell me—she knew I wouldn't have been happy and did what was best for her and the baby." He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly when neither of his parents responds. "Please don't be angry with her for this. I'm not. In fact, I'm happier than I've been in a very long time." Christian gives me a tiny nod and I stand to retrieve Caleb, calming him, and myself, down before returning to the couch. Grace and Carrick's eyes widen as Christian takes his son from me, smiling down at him. "Mom, Dad, this is Caleb. Your grandson."

"Oh," Grace mouths, her eyes filling with tears. She leans closer to the screen as though she hopes to get a better view of Caleb. "Christian, Ana..." She shakes her head in awe. "He's beautiful."

I smile at that. "Thank you," I murmur shyly.

Grace looks at me, a soft look in her eyes. "No," her eyes dart to Christian briefly, "thank you, Ana."

I have no idea what she's thanking me for—giving her her first grandchild? Making Christian smile like he's the happiest man on the planet?

"How old is he?" Grace asks, soaking up every detail about Caleb.

"Just over three months," I answer. Beside me Christian stiffens suddenly, forcing me to look at him. He's frowning deeply for some reason...

We spend another fifteen minutes or so talking to Christian's parents before Caleb starts to squirm in his dad's lap—I don't think he like the shirt I put him in. With a promise to send pictures and arrange a visit to Seattle again soon, I reach over to shut the laptop once the screen goes dark.

"Christian?" I ask quietly, finding him still staring broodingly at nothing. "What's the matter?" It doesn't escape my notice that we began the call with me being the nervous, silent one; now he's reversed our roles.

He shakes his head. "I'll get Caleb changed and down for his nap," he says quietly, not meeting my gaze. "I'll be right back."

I can only nod in confusion at his change of direction. What happened to the sweet, doting, shy father he'd been before? I probably shouldn't be surprised—mercurial should be his middle name... While he's gone, I debate on how to best handle this situation. Should I press him for answers, demand to know why he's suddenly acting so closed off? Do I just wait it out and hope he shares with me when he's ready?

By the time he returns, I still haven't reached a decision. He's pale and nervous, yet determined as he takes his seat beside me again, turning to tuck a foot beneath his leg to better face me. "I need to ask you something," he begins hoarsely. "I'm already pretty certain about the answer, but I still need to hear it from you."

"Okay," I whisper nervously.

He takes a moment to compose himself, running a hand through his hair. Licking his lips, he finally goes on, "That day in the playroom, the day you left me..." _Oh shit. _I know where this is going and as much as I want to stop him, I'm frozen in my seat. "You were pregnant, then. Weren't you?"

I shouldn't be surprised about the question, but I am. Of all the discussions we've had in the last week, this is the first time either of us as actually addressed that day specifically. "Yes," I mouth, unable to meet his gaze.

Letting out a tortured groan that is nearly a sob, Christian jumps to his feet, startling me, and begins pacing around the room. "Fuck!" he exclaims, fisting his hands in his hair. "Ana, I'm so..."

"Don't," I say strongly, despite feeling anything but. "Christian, don't do this to yourself. Caleb and I... we're perfectly fine. We're safe and healthy and unharmed."

Devastated, Christian walks back to me, dropping to his knees and taking my hands. "Ana, I... What if you weren't?" he asks, his voice cracking. "What if what I did to you—what I did with that belt... What if it had caused you to lose him? You'd have never forgiven me; I'd never forgive myself."

"I didn't lose him," I remind him. "Christian, I didn't. And you couldn't have known I was pregnant—I didn't even know. Hell, I was on birth control. We didn't plan this; it just happened."

"Do you know when you conceived?" he asks dully.

"I don't know specifically," I say honestly. "The doctor estimated it not long after I graduated, but before I came to visit my mother for those few days. I think I narrowed down the timeframe to when we started... negotiating..." I trail off, blushing. "You know." He raises an eyebrow, wanting me to say it out loud. "The night we started going over the hard and soft limits."

He thinks about this for a moment. "The night I spanked you for the first time," he says, his expression and tone devoid of emotion. "You think that's the night you conceived?" He sighs, looking upset at himself. "How romantic..."

"The spanking isn't all that happened, though," I remind him. "You stayed with me that night even though you said it wouldn't happen again after the Heathman. You made me feel attractive that night, let me see some of the power I had over you, even then. Don't focus on the bad. I'm not. If that is the night Caleb was born, well..." I shrug. "It could have been worse." He's not convinced and I have a feeling this issue is going to be a problem for him for quite a while. "Forget the past, Christian. We've moved on and we're here together. That's all that matters to me."

He looks so desolate and sad, and I'm getting what I think is a look at what he's been feeling for the last year. "We're together," he repeats in a whisper, sitting back on his haunches on the floor and pulling me down to straddle him. "Ana, I swear I will never do anything like that to you again. I can't. That morning, seeing you so upset, hurting so much... It killed me." His brow furrows, a thought popping into his mind, but he doesn't share it with me. "This last week when I was home, I started to dismantle my playroom and get rid of a lot of things—mostly the things I know now to be very hard limits for you, but also the things I wouldn't want our son to find when he gets older. I wouldn't even begin to know how to explain it to him and I don't want to."

"It wasn't all bad, you know." I smile, resting my forehead against his. "Some of the things we did together were incredible. I wouldn't mind doing those things again with you."

I've surprised him again—his eyes flash between shock to wonder, finally darkening with desire and lust. Inwardly, I cheer triumphantly, thinking I finally managed to break his control and whatever noble reasons he undoubtedly has for not ripping off my clothes and taking me right wherever I happen to be. "Incredible, huh?" he says huskily, hands trailing down my back to my backside. "What aspects were the most incredible, Miss Steele? " I squirm in his lap, forcing him to grip my hips to hold me in place, and I gasp when I feel his erection pressing against me. He smirks. "I have a list of my own—perhaps we should compare notes?"

Breathless from the look in his eyes, I struggle to form words. "What's on your list?" I mouth.

"Hmm," he murmurs, leaning forward to nuzzle my neck with his nose. "In order of most meaningful, our very first night together in my penthouse—that's a memory I will cherish for the rest of my life. Following that, our first bath together during which you showed off your considerable talent with oral skills." His grin is lecherous. "Or the first time you let me tie you up... Of course, the first two times I took you to my playroom." He pauses, groaning. "So many wonderful memories with you, Anastasia. It really is difficult to pick just a few."

I nod in agreement and thankfully he takes advantage of my silence by kissing me hungrily, frantically, and I kiss him back with the same enthusiasm. The next thing I know, he's climbing to his feet with me still in his arms and takes us down the hall to my bedroom. On his knees, he gets onto the bed, lowering me gently to the mattress, all without breaking our kiss. I wrap my legs around his waist and neither of us seems to mind that we're still fully dressed. He's grinding against me as though there are no barriers between us, his movements growing bolder and more desperate. "I love you, Ana," he whispers into my ear when I tug on his hair. "So much."

"I love you, too, Christian," I manage to say. "Please..."

"Please what?" he asks. I feel his grin against my neck.

"You know damn well what," I say impatiently.

He actually laughs, pulling back to meet my gaze. "Yes, I do know what," he confirms, his eyes dancing in amusement. The longer we look at each other, however, the more I realize his intentions of bringing me to bed have little to do with sex. "Not yet, baby. For one, I don't have any condoms, and for another, all things considered, you deserve a perfect, special moment."

"Yeah? I happen to disagree," I say poutily when he rolls off of me. "Anything we do together is perfect and special." He grins shyly at me. "Christian, it's been a year and we've spent this entire weekend doing nothing but teasing each other."

"Baby, this hasn't been teasing," he corrects me. "Though if you really are as desperate as you sound right now, I supposed a few allowances could be made."

I think I like the sound of that. In a flash, he's on his knees between my legs and leans in to unbutton my shirt. Fisting my hand in his hair, I pull him in for a pleading kiss to just put me out of my misery already. With my shirt open, he moves from my lips, trailing kisses from my chin to my neck to my chest where he's already unhooking the front clasp of my bra. Leaning away, he takes my hands and pulls me upright so he can remove the clothes on the top half of my body, then gently pushes me back to rest against the pillows. He's breathing so hard as he stares at my breasts that he's practically panting, sighing happily when he takes one nipple in his mouth and rolls the other one between his thumb and forefinger. Several minutes pass with him moving between one breast to the other, kissing, licking, nipping, and sucking, finally moving down my body, teasing my belly button with his tongue. I realize suddenly that he's unbuttoning my jeans, tugging them down my body. He lifts my legs up to remove my jeans, then my panties.

"You're still dressed," I observe breathily, proud of myself for getting the words out.

"Always knew you were a smart one, Ana," he whispers, kissing me from hip-to-hip, lingering on my scar on both passes.

"Why?" I ask, biting back a moan.

He pauses momentarily. "Because I want to do this for you." He resumes his teasing, moving down my legs and avoiding the one spot where I most need attention. "And because I've wanted to do this for a year and I think I've waited long enough."

His mouth moves down my right leg at an achingly slow pace until he reaches my foot. Gently biting my big toe, he grins at my gasp of pleasure, then switches to the other leg, repeating the process in reverse. I want to tell him we've both waited long enough and I really want him, but I can't find the words, especially when I feel his hot breath against my center. I look down between my legs, finding him watching me raptly and I fist his hair again, hoping to encourage him to do more. "Christian," I whimper, unable to take it any longer.

"I know, baby," he mouths.

At long last, he pulls my clit between his lips and sucks hard, causing my body to arch off the bed. He pulls one of my legs up to rest on his shoulder while he uses his other hand to press me back down and hold me back in place. I cry out when his tongue presses into me and I feel the vibration of his moan. "Jesus, Ana," he pants, looking up at me. "I nearly forgot how ready you always are for me." In the next moment, he thrusts two fingers deep inside me, circling them at a rapid pace. I am nothing more than putty in his hands and I feel the familiar build-up. He moves his fingers and tongue together, increasing the pressure and speed until I'm falling over the edge of ecstasy, screaming his name, begging him to either stop or give me more—I'm not sure which. He only stops once he's wrung out every last spasm from my body, crawling up to pull me against his chest.

I want to return the favor, but my body has decided it's done for the night—after the emotional weekend we've just experienced so full of highs and lows, I shouldn't be surprised. "Thank you," I breathe.

His arms go around my shoulders as he presses a kiss to the top of my head. Just before I fall asleep, I hear him whisper, "Anything for you, Anastasia."


	10. Chapter 10

The moment I've been dreading all weekend has arrived. For the last two days, Ana has taken time off work in order to spend time with Caleb and me, and on top of the rest of the weekend, I can't remember ever being this happy. But now, as I set my suitcase by the door and turn back to Ana who is watching me from where she's perched on the arm of the couch looking sad, I can't help but wish this arrangement was different and that I don't have to leave her. I move to stand in front of her, my hands rubbing up and down her arms.

"So I guess this is it until next month," I say resignedly. We argued last night briefly about when we would next see each other. I already know I won't be able to rearrange my schedule to fly back out here for a couple weeks at least; she's taken too much time off from her own job and needs to get back to it. I tried to tell her she doesn't need to work. If she comes back to Seattle with me, I'll be able to better take care of her and Caleb, and she won't have to worry about leaving him with a babysitter for several hours a day, five days a week. The babysitter seems decent enough—I haven't met her, of course, but I wouldn't be me if I didn't run background checks on the people Ana and Caleb interact with on a daily basis. I also had one pulled on Joe Battaglia, Ana's so-called friend and neighbor. That file is waiting for me to read on the flight home; this way if I read something that makes me want to beat the shit out of him, I won't be able to and Ana can avoid bailing me out of jail. I'll be happier when she moves back to Seattle and leaves the fucker behind...

"I guess so," she says quietly, resting her hands on my hips and smiling up at me. "Thank you for this weekend, Christian. It's been amazing."

"It has, hasn't it?" I pull her to stand up in front of me, lifting her chin so I can kiss her. This kiss has to hold me over for weeks, so I do everything possible to make it memorable for both of us. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too." She looks over her shoulder to where Caleb is staring up at the stuffed animals hanging from his activity gym . "We'll both miss you."

I swallow hard, resisting the urge to once again ask her to come home with me. I don't want to start another argument, especially not when I don't know how long it will be before she's in my arms again. Releasing her, I walk over to Caleb, picking him up for a hug and kiss. "I'll see you soon, Caleb," I promise him. He just stares at me with his adorable baby grin. "You be good for Mommy."

When I turn back to Ana, I find she's crying again. "No tears, Ana." I know I'm on the verge of begging, but I don't care; I don't want to leave her knowing she's this upset. She nods jerkily, taking Caleb from me. Unable to resist, I pull them both against me, alternately kissing Caleb's head and Ana's.

My phone beeps from my pocket, signaling we're out of time. "That'll be Taylor," I say quietly. "Take care of yourselves. I love you both."

She gives me another smile, this one a little stronger than the last. "We love you, too. Call when you land?"

I wink at her. "Of course." I drag my suitcase behind me as she holds open the door for me. I don't know what else to say to her, so I settle for a classic, "Laters, baby." She giggles in response and I'm glad to have chosen the right words. I have to go now, despite really not wanting to, and all the way to the elevator, I can feel her eyes locked on me. I don't look back; if I do, I'll never make it to the airport.

* * *

In the few days since returning from Savannah, I've realized a lot of things about my life. It may have only been a long weekend, but it was one of the best I've had in a long time. Walking into my penthouse, I suddenly saw it like Ana did on her first visit over a year ago. It's big and empty. It's merely functional. This is how I preferred it, but now, I know it needs more. I can imagine myself walking in the door after a long day at work and finding Ana and Caleb playing in the great room. A penthouse might not be the best place for a family, though, and I found myself looking through listings on homes for sale in the area. I've got a vague idea of what I would like to see—my dream the night after finding out about Caleb's existence comes to mind—and I know I can make it perfect.

Of course, I've had to remind myself that Ana has yet to agree to move back to Seattle. Not to mention, of all the things we've discussed, neither of us has brought up the status of our relationship. As far as I'm concerned, she's mine and always will be; the rest is just semantics. I think she feels the same, but I don't want to push my luck. I made admissions to her that I've never made to anybody, family or otherwise, and there is no chance of me ever feeling this way about another woman. A large part of me is tempted to put my foot down and demand that Ana and Caleb come to live with me—why prolong the inevitable? But if I know Ana at all, she'd put her own little foot down and defy me just on principle. I have to wait and be patient, and eventually I'll be rewarded by having my family here with me at all times. I only hope Ana decides to put me out of my misery soon.

I spent nearly a whole evening in my playroom after work last night trying to decide what I should do with it. I don't imagine Ana will ever get over her hesitance in regards to a lot of the things I keep in there. And honestly, I'm not particularly eager to bring her back in there, since the last time we were there, she left. That is not something I can ever risk again. I stand to lose so much more than I did before. If I fuck this up, there will be no recovery for me.

Every night I lie in bed, I wish Ana was beside me. I haven't forgotten what it's like to sleep with her in my arms. Just the scent of her hair was enough to keep my nightmares at bay. Even in the few days since I've been home, my mind has been occupied with Ana and Caleb that the dreams have been few and far between, but I have no illusions that it is a permanent situation. Ana and I are such strong-willed, stubborn, independent people that there will be plenty of times that we fight each other to the point that our anger will be held over long enough that they'll spark one of my nightmares.

_Let's not think of that..._

Shaking myself, I leave the playroom and head downstairs to another room, this one empty aside from several clothing racks containing the clothes I bought for Anastasia last year—when I wanted her to be my submissive. After she left, I couldn't bear leaving them hanging in the room designated for my subs and I sure as hell wasn't going to look at another woman wearing them if any of my contracts got that far. I'm making plans to move them again and mentally redesigning the room itself. Glancing down the hall towards my bedroom, I nod in satisfaction. Perhaps I'm getting a little ahead of myself, but there's no harm in being prepared.

I head into my study, sitting down in my chair and eye the file on Joe Battaglia for the dozenth time since I first read it. Unfortunately, the guy is squeaky clean from what I've read. He's had a few parking infractions in his past and an incident of shoplifting when he was twelve—the records were sealed from his childhood, but of course that hasn't stopped me from finding out about it. If the guy were anybody else and didn't show an uncomfortable attraction to Ana, I might be impressed. A Harvard graduate with baseball scholarship and a double major in business and political science. During his senior year he suffered an injury to his shoulder, effectively ruining his hopes to go pro. He comes from a good, hard-working Italian family in New York City who owns a restaurant I frequent whenever I'm there on business. Because of course he does; it's not bad enough for him to be in love Ana so he's got to taint my favorite meals. Currently, he's a star pitcher for a minor league baseball team in Savannah and have won them a number of championships over the years.

A part of me has had thoughts that he's perfect for Ana and Caleb. He could give them a happy life, one not tainted by the darkness that surrounds me wherever I go. That same part of me thinks I should let them go. Of course I'm too selfish to actually do so; Ana and Caleb are mine and I'll be damned if I allow some dickhead pretty boy move in on them. Besides, Ana has said she's not interested in anything other than friendship with him and I'm determined to take her word for it, especially since she believed me when I told her that I never slept with the submissives I contracted over the last year.

It still doesn't change the fact that Battaglia had better keep his hands off Ana and Caleb lest I injure his other shoulder.

"Sir," Taylor says, knocking on my door. "Your mother has arrived."

I close the file and stuff it into a drawer. My mind had been so occupied this evening that I nearly forgot Grace and I made dinner arrangements. Gail has prepared my mother's favorite meal in preparation and a couple of bottles of wine have been chilling all afternoon. I know what we'll be talking about while she's here and it will be best to have the wine just in case one or both of us needs the liquid fortification. "Of course," I say to Taylor briskly as I stand. "Show her into the kitchen please, Taylor. I'll join her momentarily."

Taylor nods and does as instructed while I grab a stack of photos I chose to show Grace. She'll no doubt want to see as much of her grandson as possible and I've found out how enjoyable it is to show off my son to people. Ros managed to surprise me in my office yesterday afternoon going through the photos I took of Caleb during my stay in Savannah and refused to drop the subject until I told her who the baby was. I might have considered firing her if the shock on her face regarding my son hadn't been so amusing. Like everyone else, she thought I was gay, so suddenly learning that I'm a father came as a shock to her system. I'm sure I'll be facing similar reactions for the foreseeable future and I find I really don't care.

Reaching the kitchen, I find Grace and Gail chatting at the breakfast bar, my mother holding a glass of wine. "Hello, Mother," I say, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "I'm glad you could make it."

"So am I, dear," she says, tapping my cheek lovingly. Gail pours me a glass of wine and announces dinner will be ready in just a few minutes. Grace and I sit down together, sipping our wine silently until Gail places plates in front of us and excuses herself from the kitchen, instructing us to let her know if we need anything. "This looks wonderful."

I nod my agreement. "Gail is worth her weight in gold and then some," I say proudly. "I'm lucky to have found her."

After a few minutes of small talk and taking bites of our meal, Grace turns to me and I feel a shift in the air when she brings up the recent news. "So you have a son," she says quietly, still looking as though she can hardly believe it. I know the feeling.

"I do," I confirm, reaching for the photos and handing them to her. Her eyes soften as she very slowly flips through them, laughing occasionally at a few. I'm relieved that she seems happy about Caleb rather than upset with Ana or me for keeping her in the dark rather than telling her immediately. "He's an amazing little boy."

"I have no doubt that he is," Grace says fondly. She sets the photos aside and turns towards me. "He's got amazing parents, after all."

Frowning disbelievingly, I avert my gaze from hers. "Ana certainly is," I answer quietly. "I'm not so sure about me, though."

The admonishing glare she gives me nearly makes her laugh. "Why do you say those things about yourself, Christian?" she asks in exasperation.

I shrug. "It's true, though. Ana knows exactly what she's doing at all times, but I... I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Let me tell you a little secret, Christian," she begins. "I seriously doubt Ana know what she's doing all the time. No parent knows what they're doing _all_ the time. You learn as you go, and looking at these," she gestures at the photo on top of the stack of me giving Caleb a bath, "you're a very quick learner."

"What if I mess up?" I ask broodingly. "What if I make a mistake with him and he gets hurt or worse?"

"Well, you'll mess up often and you'll all make mistakes, but do you really think Ana will let you do something to permanently damage that child?"

I know she wouldn't, but what if it's something that can't be controlled by her? What if it's something genetic that I've passed on to my son to make him turn out like I did? I don't vocalize these concerns; there are too many questions for Grace to ask about things I could never talk to her about. "No," I say quietly. "She wouldn't."

She pats my hand. "If you ever need help or advice, your father and I are only a phone call away, Christian. But as long as you put that child first before your work or anything else, you'll be just fine." Her eyes shine in mischief; I raise an eyebrow at her. "Of course, if I don't get to meet my grandson soon, I can't promise I won't do something drastic."

I laugh. "As soon as Ana and I can arrange it," I promise her.

"And when might that be?" she asks sternly.

I smirk, letting it slip when I realize what my answer has to be for now. I don't like it anymore than Grace will... "I don't know," I confess. "We're hoping next month at the earliest—between my job and hers, and the fact that Caleb doesn't do well with flying, it's the best we can do."

Grace's brow furrows. "Is this how it will always be?" she asks. "The distance?"

I smile sadly. "I hope not. I'm trying to convince her to move back here, but she's not ready yet."

"Patience, son," Grace advises. "You've waited this long to see her again; a little longer won't kill you."

"I'm not sure about that," I murmur to myself, making her smile knowingly. "I suppose I should start working on what to tell Mia and Elliot..."

My mother rolls her eyes, an action I've never seen her do, but she's smiling. "Mia will have a full wardrobe and accessories picked out by the end of the week." I laugh, knowing it's true. Grace gives me a soft, emotionally charged smile. "I don't think I've ever seen you laugh this much," she says wistfully. "Or look so happy."

I nod my agreement. "I don't remember ever being this happy," I say, shaking my head in wonder. "I never realized it was even possible."

"You'll find all sorts of new possibilities with a child in your life and you'll learn from him just as much as he learns from you. Have faith in yourself, Christian, and you and Ana and Caleb will be just fine."

I'm not so certain, but I stay quiet and we go on talking about Caleb until our plates are cleared. When it's time for her to leave, I hand her the stack of photos, telling her to keep them, and the look on her face suggests I've given her the best present I could ever give. For once, I seem to have made my mother proud of me. I only hope I don't screw things up and give her a reason for disappointment again.

* * *

Since Christian left, I've come to the conclusion that I've been living the last year in black and white. While he was here and we were getting a taste of family life, I was living in brilliant Technicolor, so happy to be with him even when we were arguing, particularly after spending so long thinking I'd never see him again and that he'd hate me for keeping his son a secret. Now, with him gone, I can't imagine how I managed the last year without him. Every time I look at Caleb, I see Christian and I begin to long for him, wishing I'd given in the few times he asked me to come back to Seattle. More often than not, my co-workers find me daydreaming about arriving at his penthouse to surprise him and tell him Caleb and I want to be with him. I'm still hesitant; if it were only me, I'd be on a plane right now, but this affects my son as well, and I have to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I'm making the best decision for him. I'm getting much closer to reaching that decision and have even looked up prices for airfare.

Kate and Elliot have returned from their honeymoon yesterday. Kate and I spent hours on the phone last night discussing Christian and Caleb, and my plans for the future. She found it particularly amusing when I told her about our run-in with Joe last Friday night—though her nickname for him is THD (Tall, Dark, and Handsome). I roll my eyes every time she says it; she only does it to get under my skin. When I mentioned my thoughts about moving back to Seattle, she jumped right in to help me plan. Before I knew what was happening, we decided my visit would remain a surprise to Christian; she'll pick me up from the airport and take me to Escala, and depending on how things go, she even offered to take Caleb for the night so we can have some alone time.

In the days that follow, I've put in my two weeks' notice at work with no idea what I'll do for work in Seattle—I had a job at one point, but since I never actually showed up for my first day, I can't imagine they'll be eager to give me a second chance. My mother has been over every day to help me pack the things I want to take with me, promising to send them on once I'm settled in Seattle. I have a feeling Christian will insist we live with him, but if for whatever reason he doesn't, I'll need a place to live first.

To my satisfaction, every time I talk to Christian, I manage to avoid blurting out my surprise and am even able to keep him from thinking something is going on. Maybe work is distracting him; I know he has several meetings scheduled this week that are keeping him from spending much time at home. The only problem I have is the security detail Christian has assigned for Caleb and me. As exasperated as I was when he told me somebody would be following us around to keep us safe, it's touching that he is going to such lengths to take care of us even at the long distance between us.

The day after Christian left, I got the feeling of being watched and followed. Whenever I looked, I found the same man several paces behind me or sitting across from a restaurant when I was out for lunch or in a car in my building's parking lot. Given how he was dressed, I knew I was in no danger, though it presented the perfect opportunity to see if Christian would give me answers when I wanted them. So I sent him an email with the subject of "Being followed..." in which I said I was nervous and a little afraid because I feel like I've been watched and that wherever I go, the feeling never really leaves me. He didn't respond immediately since he was in a meeting so I waited patiently until he finally answered with one line. "I'm sure it's fine." I rolled my eyes at the computer screen, muttering to Caleb about his frustrating, exasperating father. I replied to that email with "Want to try again, Mr. Control-Freak?". And less than two minutes later, my phone was ringing. He apologized the moment I picked up, rushing through an explanation that the man following me is named Luke Sawyer, and yes, he's been hired to keep an eye on Caleb and me. I'd already figured this out when I confronted who I thought to be my stalker. He'd blushed bright red when I began questioning him and actually apologized if he frightened me. Christian apparently expected me to argue with him over my new babysitter and sounded shocked when I shrugged it off and accepted his over protectiveness.

This morning, I approached Sawyer and informed him of my flight plans and asked him to not tell Christian about it. At first, I thought he would refuse and insist on following his orders, but we compromised; he'll inform Taylor of my plans and Taylor agreed to keep it quiet from Christian. Actually, he sounded excited about the surprise, or as excited as I imagine he ever is.

Two days before my scheduled flight to Seattle, I've only spoken with Christian a couple times via email. Whatever business deal he's working on has kept him occupied to the point that I'm suddenly certain about my decision—I hate not talking to him whenever I want and if I was in Seattle, at least I'd be there waiting when he came stumbling in from a long day in the office...

He sent a text earlier to say good morning and that he loves us, just as he has every day since leaving, but that was the last communication we had until dinnertime when he emailed to inform me that he wouldn't be able to call me until late because he would be having dinner with a friend. Immediately, my blood froze, recalling the last time he sent an email similar to this—we both ended up angry at each other and cemented my hatred for Mrs. Robinson. I probably shouldn't be surprised that he's still in contact with her, but I can't deny it hurts a little knowing he'd rather spend time with her than talk to me.

* * *

**To: Christian Grey**

**From: Anastasia Steele**

**Subject: Déjà vu **

Are we going to be honest with each other unlike last year or will I have to drag out the identity of your dinner companion yet again?

Choose wisely, Mr. Grey.

* * *

**To: Anastasia Steele**

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: Déjà vu**

I had no intention of lying to you about having dinner with Elena. Please, let's not go through this again. I know how you feel about her, but we still have our business partnership. The subject of our dinner will strictly cover profits and losses of that business and nothing else. I assure you, Anastasia, you will be on my mind so much during this dinner that I probably wouldn't even realize it if I discovered every last salon had closed and she was going bankrupt.

Don't be upset with me, baby. I'll call you as soon as I get home.

I love you.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

I can't help the thought that I'd be perfectly content if the bitch was going bankrupt. I don't reply to his email, knowing that if I do, we will end up fighting. Though once we talk this evening, I will make it absolutely clear that that woman will never be around our son and I'll give detailed examples of what I will do to the both of them if he goes against my word on this subject.

A sudden image pops up in my mind from Kate and Elliot's wedding reception of a woman who was giving us the evil eye while Christian and I were dancing. I'd made a joke about it at the time and he'd shrugged it off. Now I have the feeling that I know exactly who that woman was.

* * *

**To: Christian Grey**

**From: Anastasia Steele**

**Subject: The truth, please.**

Was Mrs. Robinson at Kate and Elliot's wedding?

* * *

It's nearly ten minutes before he responds.

* * *

**To: Anastasia Steele**

**From: Christian Grey**

**Subject: The truth, always.**

Yes, she was at the wedding and reception. I've told you before she is a friend of my mother's so she received an invite.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

I don't know how to respond this time, so I don't. If he wants to have dinner with his former child molester, fine, but I hope he doesn't expect me to be happy about it. In fact, I am downright furious—so furious, in fact, that I'm tempted to cancel my flight to Seattle. Looking down the hall to my son's bedroom, I know it won't come to that; I promised Christian I'd never withhold his son from him. Mrs. Robinson is an issue that will need to be addressed, but it will have to wait.

There's a knock on the door just as I'm taping up another box of my belongings and I look up in surprise. It's barely been an hour since I last heard from Christian, so it's not possible for it to be him—unless of course he's learned to teleport. I wouldn't put it past him. My second guess is that it's Sawyer, though I don't know why he would be knocking on my door at this time of night. When I open the door and find Joe standing on the other side carrying a pizza box and a paper bag.

"Hey, neighbor," he says brightly. "Heard a rumor you weren't going to be around much longer, so I thought I'd take advantage of the time you have left." I glance into the hallway and see Sawyer quickly approaching. No doubt he's been given very strict instructions to intervene if any man, namely Joe Battaglia, knocks on my door.

I shoot him a glare and to my surprise, he stops in his tracks. "Yeah," I say to Joe. "Come in." Joe glances uneasily at Sawyer s though he wonders whether he should do or say something.

Joe looks around the apartment as I push a few boxes aside for us to sit on the couch. "Wow," he says quietly. "You're really leaving, then."

Nodding, I sit beside him. "I am," I confirm.

"It's all a little sudden," he says, trying to figure something out. "Where are you headed?"

"Back to Seattle. I thought it was about time."

"Because of Grey?" he asks evenly, holding my gaze.

Looking away, I open the can of soda he pulls out of the paper bag and hands to me. "Not entirely," I say unconvincingly. "My friends are there. So is my dad... But yes, Christian is a big part of the reason—he's Caleb's father, after all..."

"So, what? He's not around for a year, now all of a sudden he wants to be in your lives again?" I look at Joe, surprised at the anger and bitterness in his voice. "Sorry, but you told me yourself: he wouldn't have been happy about having a child. He wasn't the settling down type. All that's changed now?"

I shrug. "Honestly, I don't know," I say. "Regardless, yes, he wants to be in our lives and I owe it to him and to Caleb to give that a chance."

Joe sighs, shaking his head. "And if it turns out he really doesn't want a family?"

"Then I'll figure out what to do when it comes to that. Look, I appreciate your concern, Joe, but he means a lot more to me than just being the father of my child."

"You love him."

"Yes. Very much. It might have been a year, but how I feel about him hasn't changed—I don't think it ever will."

Resigned, he nods, opening the pizza box and placing a slice on a paper plate he brought with him. "Well, for your sake and Caleb's, I hope things work out," he says. "You both deserve all the happiness in the world."

I can't think of a response and I can see in his eyes there is a lot more he wants to see, but manages to refrain. I'm glad; I think I know exactly what he's thinking about and all things considered, I couldn't handle that sort of conversation right now. "I don't suppose you could give Caleb and me a ride to the airport Wednesday morning, could you?"

Joe smiles. "Of course I can," he promises. "Anything you need, Ana."

I flush as several thoughts regarding the meaning of that statement run through my mind. As we eat and talk about inconsequential things, I go back to thinking about Christian, wondering if he's with _her_ right now having dinner. Whether he knows Joe is with me in my apartment. Whether he's wondering why I haven't replied to his last email. Right now, though, I push those thoughts out of my mind to be dealt with another time.

* * *

I glance at my phone for the twelfth time in ten minutes. Ana hasn't yet replied to my last email and I'd be lying if I said the lack of communication doesn't bother me. I haven't forgotten about how she feels about Elena and to a point, I understand her reticence about wanting to get to know Elena in order to better understand our current relationship. If Ana decides to move back to Seattle, I'll need to start seriously rethinking a few things—Elena included—if I want to avoid having the same arguments she and I had a year ago. When I call her tonight, I'll try to explain again and hope she understands to some point.

"A bit distracted, Christian?"

I stash my phone into my jacket pocket and stand, smiling at Elena and pulling out a chair for her. She sits, placing her designer handbag on the table and reaching for the water glass that has been waiting for her. "A little," I say honestly, retaking my seat.

"Anything you want to talk about?" she asks, her eyes informing me she already suspects what's on my mind.

"Not particularly," I mutter as the waiter approaches. We each order our dinner and are left alone again. "Have you got this quarter's figures?"

Elena raises an amused eyebrow at me. "Jumping right into it, are we?" she asks teasingly. "We're not even going to exchange the usual polite chitchat tonight."

I sigh, pinching my forehead between my thumb and forefinger. "Elena, I'm exhausted. It's been a long week and I just want to go home. So can we do this please?"

"It's that girl, isn't it?" she asks, completely disregarding my words. "What was her name? Ashley? Alyssa?"

"Anastasia," I say through gritted teeth. Of course Elena knows Ana's name; she's playing dumb to wind me up and dammit if it isn't working. "If you must know, yes."

"Is that where you were for most of last week? Visiting her?"

I nod into my wine glass. "It was," I confirm. "I'd really prefer not to discuss her with you, though, Elena."

"Oh, stop it with the brooding CEO act," she says, smirking. "When have we not discussed the women in your life—I have a feeling you tell me more about them than you tell them. I just want to know what it is you think is going to happen with her. She's already hurt you once, Christian; I'd hate to see it happen again."

I roll my eyes. "I appreciate the concern, but I can get through this on my own."

Elena_ tsks_. "She's not good for you, Christian. I thought you figured that out last year; she can't handle our lifestyle so I don't know why you're wasting your time with her," she says dismissively.

"I really don't give a shit what you think of her," I respond coolly. "I don't have to explain my choices to you anymore, so mind your own fucking business, stay out of my love life, and drop it."

Elena looks surprised at my words. I can understand why; normally, I would feel inclined to share everything with her and ask her for advice on how to handle it. Maybe I'm reluctant because of what Elena thinks about Anastasia and vice versa; maybe it's because I know how Ana would react if I discussed our son with a person she openly despises. Whatever it is, I have no interest in small talk and if I hear Elena say one more word against Ana, I'm going to fucking lose it.

Our meals arrive, effectively distracting us, and as we eat, Elena finally places a folder of paperwork on the table between us. Wiping my mouth with a napkin, I pick it up, scanning it quickly. I nod in satisfaction. "Everything looks good," I say.

Elena nods. "I think so," she agrees. "Though there is one thing I wanted to ask you about..."

* * *

It's nearly nine o'clock when Elena and I finish dinner and our business talk. On the way home, despite the late hour in Savannah, I need to hear Ana's voice, even if it's just to tell me she's asleep and will talk to me later. Disappointment begins to build when she doesn't answer immediately. I'm relieved when she answers right before the call is kicked over to voicemail.

"Hi," she murmurs quietly.

I sigh; she's angry. "Hi yourself," I respond.

She's quiet for a moment and I try to think of something to say. "How was your dinner?"

"Tedious," I answer honestly. "Ana, I—"

I stop speaking suddenly when I hear a voice in the background. A male voice. I could have convinced myself that I imagined it if not for Ana covering the phone with her hand to reply to the voice. I can feel my temper beginning to rise. "Sorry, Christian," she says. "What were you saying?"

"Who the fuck is that?" I growl. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Taylor looking at me through the rearview mirror.

"Nobody important," she says dismissively, repeating my words to her at the wedding reception when she asked about Elena.

"Ana," I say through gritted teeth. "Don't fuck with me. Who is with you?"

She sighs and I can almost hear her rolling her eyes. "It's Joe," she says eventually. "He dropped by with a pizza and we had dinner together."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I shout. "Ana, it's goddamn midnight and you think it's okay to have some overachieving pretty boy in your apartment?"

"Would it be better if he was my former child molester?" she hisses.

"Watch it, Anastasia," I threaten. "I am not having this conversation with you again. I want him out of that fucking apartment—now. If you don't do it, Sawyer will be happy to oblige."

I swear she growls into the phone. "Don't you dare, Christian," she says warningly. "We've talked about this—he is only a friend. He will only _ever_ be a friend. And I am perfectly entitled to have dinner with my _friends_ in _my _apartment. If you don't like it, maybe you ought to rethink some of your own dinner companions."

I am seething, ready to start shouting at her again, but I manage to keep quiet for now.

She sighs. "I have to go," she says quietly. "We'll talk about this tomorrow if you're in a more reasonable mood."

"Ana, don't you fucking dare hang up—"

She hung up.

"FUCK!" I shout, punching my door. The woman is going to kill me if she keeps doing shit like this. "Taylor, get Sawyer on the line and find out why the _fuck_ he let that piece of shit anywhere near Ana."

"Yes, sir," Taylor agrees, though the look I see in his eyes in the mirror suggests he thinks I'm overreacting. Luckily for him and his job security, he keeps his opinions to himself.

By the time we arrive at Escala, I want to hop onto a plane, fly to Savannah, and pay Ana another surprise visit. Unfortunately, I won't have time until the weekend; I have meetings that can't be pushed back anymore than they've already been due to my last visit to Savannah.

Ana's right; this is something we need to talk about tomorrow when we're feeling more reasonable. I need to calm down or I'm going to ruin everything she and I have worked on since being reunited. I only hope neither of us does anything just to spite the other.


	11. Chapter 11

Wednesday morning dawns and rather than being excited about getting back to Seattle and seeing the look of surprise on Christian's face, I'm uncertain and nervous about whether this is a good idea, after all. We need to sort this out; doing it in person will either solve the problem or make it fifty times worse. Fighting with Christian is exhausting and this is among the worst we've had. We haven't spoken since the other night when I hung up on him. This could mean one of two things: Either he is so furious with me that he can't bring himself to even send me a text message or he's so furious that this is the only way he could think of to tell me our relationship is over before it even really picks up again.

Part of me spent all day yesterday looking over my shoulder expecting to see Christian suddenly standing there. I was disappointed when I went to bed and I hadn't seen or heard a word for him. Caleb seems to know I'm upset; he's refused to be out of my arms for more than a few minutes at the time. He is the only reason I haven't had a complete emotional breakdown yet.

Currently, we're sitting on a plane waiting for take-off. Joe drove us to the airport and hung around until we went through security to board our flight. Following the disastrous phone call with Christian the other night, I sent him home—not because Christian told me to, but because I couldn't deal with Joe questioning me about why I was so upset. He's a smart guy, though; I'm sure he worked it out in his own mind. Before he left the airport, Joe gave us a hug and told me to promise to call if I needed anything. I'm going to miss him; he's been there for me through some rough moments in the last several months and was even the one who took me to the hospital when my water broke at the end of my pregnancy. The nurses thought he was my husband, or at least the father of my child, and I was too distracted with contractions to correct them.

_It should have been Christian there with you,_ my subconscious says scathingly. _Not Joe. You and your stupid, stubborn pride..._

Rolling my eyes, I send a quick text message to Kate to let her know we're about to leave Savannah. For a second, I consider sending the same message to Christian, but I think better of it. I still want to see the look of absolute shock on his face when I walk through the door of his penthouse this evening.

At long last, the doors of the plane are closed and a few minutes later, we're taxiing down the runway. "We're going home, Caleb," I say quiet to my sleeping son. "Hopefully this time it will be permanent..."

* * *

The last two nights have been spent lying wide awake in bed and replaying my conversation with Ana on Monday night. Much of my anger has dissipated since then, leaving misery in its wake. I did it again—jumped to conclusions, reacted without thinking, and made myself look like a complete fucking hypocrite. Of course she was right about me being pissed off at her for having dinner with a friend when I as having dinner with Elena. It hasn't stopped my jealous streak and the overwhelming desire to fly back to Savannah specifically to beat the shit out of Battaglia.

It angers me that Ana has such little regard for her safety and our son's. She has no qualms about allowing a guy into her apartment in the middle of the night when anything could happen to them and nobody would be any the wiser. That anger also extends to Sawyer—Taylor had to talk me out of firing him for not doing his job. I'm still uncertain about whether I should continue to employ somebody who doesn't follow specific orders. One more infraction and he's out on his ass on the sidewalk. Taylor grudgingly agreed to my terms.

I feel guilty for not contacting Ana since our fight, but every time I begin to, business interrupts in some manner and my intentions fall by the wayside. I have business in Portland today and once I return, I'll call her and we'll hash this out once and for all.

"All set, Mr. Grey."

I look up as I stand on the helipad, waiting for _Charlie Tango_ to be put through its checks before leaving. "Thank you," I say briskly, glancing at Ros who is looking down at her phone. "Time to fly."

She smirks, tucking her phone away and following me to the helicopter. "You're sure you know what you're doing with this thing?" she asks teasingly. "I'd rather make it back home in one piece if it's all the same to you."

"Of course I know what I'm doing," I say dismissively. "When do I not?"

She raises an eyebrow, but wisely chooses not to respond.

For the first time in days, I feel myself relaxing the moment I begin my pre-flight procedures. This is an area of my life that guarantees I have maximum control at all times. Flying takes concentration and precision, two things I've mastered over the years. And it's a perfect day for a flight. We're scheduled to have storms in Seattle tonight, but for right now, the sky is bright blue with not a cloud in sight. Glancing over at Ros, I see that even she seems impressed by the view around us.

"Very nice, Christian," she says, grinning when she sees me watching her. "Impressive."

I return her grin. "Oh, you haven't seen anything yet," I say excitedly. "Wait until the flight back—maybe we'll take a little detour."

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

Laughing, I go back to concentrating on flying, already looking forward to showing off a little.

* * *

Upon arriving in Seattle just after nine o'clock, it's pouring rain. Lucky for me, Caleb slept through most of the turbulence we hit the closer we got to SeaTac. It was bad enough that we spent an hour longer than we were supposed to in the air as the pilot waited for the wind to calm down enough that we could safely land; the last thing anybody on this flight would have wanted to deal with was a screaming baby.

With Caleb still in his car seat, we make our way to baggage claim where Kate will be meeting us and I check my phone messages, further disappointed to find nothing waiting for me from Christian. Either he really is busy today or he doesn't want to talk to me. Maybe Kate will let us stay with her for a few days until I get a return flight to Georgia...

"Ana!"

I smile widely when I see my best friend waving at me, though it slips slightly when I see Taylor standing beside her. Setting Caleb's car seat down for a second, I hug Kate tightly, relieved to be here despite whatever is waiting for me at Escala. "Looks like someone took advantage of the sunny beaches on her honeymoon," I tease.

"Only grudgingly. I would have preferred staying in the hotel the whole time, but Elliot was insistent that we get out and see _something_ while we were there."

"Okay," I say urgently, hoping to convey the message that I really don't need to know anymore. I glance at Taylor and he's got a slight smirk on his face directed at Kate. "Hi, Taylor." I bend to pick Caleb up again, but Kate beats me to it. Rolling my eyes, I start towards the baggage claim conveyor belt. "Wasn't expecting to see you here."

I only just don't miss the look between him and Kate—both of their expressions looking uneasy for some reason. "We thought it was best for him to drive," Kate explains. For some reason, I think she's lying. "Come on, let's get your stuff and get you two back."

Taylor grabs my luggage before I can even point out which it is, leaving me with nothing but my carry-on backpack and diaper bag. On the way to the awaiting SUV, Kate is making faces at Caleb, trying to elicit a smile from him. "How was your flight?" she asks as we climb into the backseat after buckling Caleb and his car seat.

"Better than I thought it would be," I admit. "He slept most of the time and I even managed to get a nap in..."

"Good," Kate says distractedly, alternately looking at her phone and Caleb. "I think you're going to need your energy tonight."

I flush, assuming she's talking about whatever Christian might have in store for me when we get to the penthouse. It's only then that I realize Taylor is looking at me with what I can only identify as sympathy and Kate looks like she's fighting with herself about something. "What?" I ask quietly, looking between the two of them. "What's the matter?"

Kate glances at Taylor who seems to give her a small nod. She turns to me, reaching across Caleb to take my hand. "Ana," she begins reluctantly, "I don't want you to panic, but there's been an accident."

"An accident," I repeat uncertainly. "What accident?" It hits me that the reason they're being so gentle with me is because something has gone really, _really_ wrong and they're afraid of my reaction. "Christian? Is he okay?"

"Mr. Grey was in Portland today on business," Taylor picks up, glancing at the mirror as he maneuvers through the Seattle streets. "He took _Charlie Tango_ rather than spending the time driving. On the return trip, air traffic control reports they received an SOS from him, but before they could respond or dispatch anyone to help, they lost contact completely. His GPS tracker was somehow disabled, so we don't even have a clear idea of where he went down."

I can hardly breathe. "Went down?" I reply in horror. "As in... crashed?"

"We don't know," Kate says quietly, squeezing my hand. "They're searching, but the area they managed to narrow down is very broad and widespread..."

This isn't happening. It's a nightmare and at any moment, I'm going to wake up in my apartment in Savannah. I'll call Christian the second I wake up and apologize for the other night, and tell him Caleb and I want to come live with him. We'll be a family which, despite our ongoing problems, is something I know we both really want.

But if this is all real, if _Charlie Tango_ really did crash, all those wants and needs crashed right along with it. I can't even consider the possibility that he didn't survive the accident, especially since our last words to each other were angry ones.

"Ana," Kate says quietly, still holding my hand. "I know this is rough, but everyone is at Christian's apartment right now—Grace, Carrick, Elliot, and Mia. They know you're coming, but if you don't feel like you can handle people right now, you can stay at my place..."

"No," I whisper, looking at my sleeping son. Will he ever see his father again? "I want to be wherever everyone else is when there's news..."

Kate nods, not arguing like I thought she might. "Probably a good plan," she says. "They could use the distraction." She shoots a smile at Caleb.

"Mia and Elliot... Do they know?"

"Yes," Kate says, sounding surprised. "Christian told them last week. They're both really excited to meet Caleb."

"Oh." It would have been nice for Christian to have mentioned telling his siblings, but I don't have it in me to be annoyed with him right now. Not when I don't know if I'll get him back.

Before I'm fully prepared, we're pulling into the underground garage beneath Escala. Kate offers to take Caleb again, but I silently shake my head, needing the comfort of my baby boy in order to face this. The moment we walk into the penthouse, all eyes are on me and Caleb. Grace slowly stands up from her spot on the couch beside Mia and I see a small, genuine smile begin on her lips. She crosses the room and I see what the stress of the evening has done to her—she's exhausted just like everyone else and looks on the verge of collapsing. Her arms wrap around my shoulders for a hug, careful not to squish Caleb between us. When she pulls away, she's crying and looking down at her grandson.

"Oh, Ana," she whispers. "He's beautiful."

I nod, unable to get any words past the lump in my throat. The next few minutes are spent with the Greys fawning over Caleb and welcoming me back. Not one of them looks angry at me for keeping him from them, but then again, they're under a lot of stress right now.

"Has there been any news?" Kate asks some time later once everyone is seated again. Caleb is currently being passed around the living room—Mia is trying to hog him, but Elliot puts an end to that. Regardless of the situation, I smile at the adorableness of it all.

"Nothing new," Carrick says with a sigh, running a hand down his face in exhaustion. "It's looking like they might have to end the search for the night—between the lack of visibility and weather, they're having trouble following the only trail they had to begin with."

"They can't just stop looking," I hear myself say incredulously. "They have to find him!"

Carrick gives me a tight smile of sympathy. "They're not going to stop looking, dear," he says gently. "They'll resume the search in the morning at first light. Christian is smart; he'll have found shelter for the night."

I want to argue—what if Christian is hurt and _can't_ look for shelter?

With that thought, for the first time since Kate picked me up, I begin to cry at the unfairness of it all. Christian only just found us again, found his son, and now he may never get the chance to be the father I know he can be if he puts his mind to it. He proved it during his weekend in Savannah and we both saw how well we work together as parents. It's what we all deserve—the chance of happiness. I only hope that chance still remains.

* * *

It's nearly one in the morning and I should be in bed right now. Between the time difference and the evening's events, all I want is to curl up and sleep for the next week. I can't, of course; I know I'll never sleep knowing Christian is still out there someplace, possibly hurt and scared. He doesn't even know we're here so he can't draw the strength and determination to get back to us. Suddenly this whole surprise thing seems like a ridiculous idea. I should have told him we were coming to visit.

"Why don't you get some rest, Ana?" Kate asks, rubbing my shoulder as we sit in the kitchen while I prepare a bottle for Caleb.

I shake my head, glancing at my son asleep in a portable crib. Taylor took the liberty of setting it up for me—I don't think I could have figured it out on my own, even if I have set it up a million times. "I can't sleep," I say dully. "He's out there, Kate, and they stopped looking for him. How can I sleep knowing that?"

She sits down at the breakfast bar beside me with a sigh. We got word just over an hour ago that the search and rescue team couldn't go on with their task. The rain has only gotten worse, making the trails they're following dangerous and rescuing Christian will be impossible if the team looking for him is in danger themselves. "He'll be back," she promises me quietly. "He's too stubborn to be taken out by something as inconsequential as a helicopter crash."

I crack a small smile, which was clearly her goal given the look of triumph in her eyes. "I really hope so..."

In the next few moments, several things happen at once. From the view in the kitchen, Kate and I see all the Greys, Taylor, and Mrs. Jones tense simultaneously, their gazes locked on something we can't see. Grace lets out a choked sob and pulls herself from her husband's embrace, rushing towards whoever caught their attention.

"Christian!" Mia says, her hands covering her mouth in shock and her eyes wide.

I look at Kate who is looking back at me in shock. "He's back?" I whisper hopefully.

She smiles, nodding. "Sounds like it..." She joins the others as Christian's family takes it in turns to greet him. As much as I want to rush out there, I'm frozen in my spot, though I do manage a couple steps forward with the help of the bar.

Christian is standing there, bemused, dirty, soaking wet, exhausted, but mercifully unharmed. His hair is more of a mess than normal, his shoes and suit jacket are in his hands, and he seems to have no idea what his family has gone through this evening. "What's everyone doing here?" he asks, looking around at them.

Mia steps forward, punching him angrily in the shoulder. He winces. "That's for scaring the hell out of us!" she exclaims. The others look as though they want to repeat her actions, but they refrain.

"Sorry," Christian says in confusion. "I didn't realize I'd have a welcoming committee waiting for me."

"Son, what happened?" Carrick asks, leading him towards the couch.

Only now does Christian look around the penthouse, possibly feeling my gaze on him. His eyes are wide when he finds me leaning against the wall for support. Everyone else steps back to allow us to have our moment. Christian opens and closes his mouth several times, unable to find words. Eventually, he shakes his head and takes a few long strides towards me. I somehow manage to meet him halfway and then I'm in his arms. Actually wrapped around him as I bury my head in the nook between his shoulder and neck as I cry in relief. His hands are all over me—testing to see if I'm real or a figment of his imagination. I'm familiar with the feeling.

"Ana," he breathes, his voice cracking. "Oh, Ana, you're here."

I nod against him. "I'm here," I confirm. "So are you."

He pulls back and I see tears in his eyes. "Caleb?" he whispers.

I gesture towards the portable crib sitting in the corner of the kitchen—we wanted to put him somewhere that he wouldn't be woken up by the conversation happening in the next room. Christian pulls one arm away from me, leaving the other around my waist, and leads me across the room. The look of love and adoration he gives Caleb brings me to renewed tears. He releases me temporarily to bend over the side of the crib to press a kiss to Caleb's forehead. Reluctantly, we leave Caleb in the kitchen for the time being, returning to the others who are all waiting as patiently as possible for us. Grace looks between us in wonder, particularly when she finds my arms wrapped around his middle, part of his no-touch zone.

He collapses into a chair, pulling me down into his lap, and buries his nose in my hair. During the next half hour, Christian relives the accident. He and his business partner Ros were flying home from Portland when they got caught in increasingly bad weather when the helicopter was hit with what he thinks might be a lightning bolt—though his voice is full of disbelief when he says it and I know he has a different theory that he's not ready to share with his family. He somehow managed to land the helicopter despite the fire in one of the engines, and he and Ros were forced to hike through the middle of nowhere in bad weather to find their way home. Grace stands suddenly and crosses towards us—I try to remove myself from his lap, but he only holds onto me tighter as his mother places the back of her hand on his forehead to check his temperature, muttering something about hypothermia. Determining he's healthy, she returns to her place beside Carrick.

I don't hear much else of his explanation; I'm too distracted with the knowledge that he's home and he's safe to pay attention. At some point, the apartment clears out, Taylor and Mrs. Jones excuse themselves, and I'm back in Christian's arms—the only place in the world I want to be right now and for the rest of my life.

"You're here," he whispers, smiling.

"Didn't we already do this?" I ask with a giggle.

His smile widens. "Yes, but I'm still having trouble processing it," he says, pushing the hair out of my eyes so he can lean in and kiss me in a way that leaves me in little doubt just how happy he is that I'm with him. "Did you come when you heard about _Charlie Tango_?"

I shake my head. "No," I answer. "I've had this planned for a week or so—I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, I am certainly surprised."

"Good surprised or bad surprised?"

He grins. "Definitely, without a doubt good surprised. Spectacularly surprised." The longer he looks at me, his happiness begins to fade, replaced with bleakness.

"What?" I ask him, wondering if I've done or said something to upset him.

Shaking his head, he stands and brings me with him. "It's late, Miss Steele," he says, pulling me into his arms again and glancing towards the kitchen. "And our son should be in a proper bed."

Before I can question him, he's retrieved Caleb from the kitchen and is leading me down the hall. For one confusing, horrifying minute, I think he's leading me to the playroom, but he stops in front of a room I've never seen the inside of and turns to me, reluctant. "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty..."

My brow furrows and I step forward, gasping at the sight of the door. _CALEB _is spelled out in wooden letters across it. I glance at Christian who is smiling hopefully and nods at me to open the door; though I already know what I'll find, I'm still amazed. It looks as though this room has been here all along—a beautiful wooden crib sits at one end across from a matching dresser that I just know will be filled with Caleb-sized clothes, a changing table, toys and stuffed animals, and everything else a baby could possibly want or need. Christian enters the room behind me and he flicks a switch that I assume turns on the lights; instead, it switches on a projector that fills the room with stars and constellations and planets. It's like the one Ray bought for Caleb when he was born, but the higher end version.

"What do you think?" Christian asks softly.

I'm shaking my head in wonder as I turn to him. "It's incredible," I breathe. "When did you do this?"

He shrugs. "Not long after I came back from Savannah," he answers in a murmur. "I know you said you weren't ready to move back here, but I wanted to be ready for whenever that might be."

For a second, I wonder if he knows why Caleb and I are here, but the look on his face is too vulnerable for him to have figured it out. "He'll love it, Christian," I say. Turning towards my boys, I push up on my tiptoes and press a kiss to Christian's scruffy cheek. "Thank you. It's amazing. Really."

He smiles shyly and we silently go about getting Caleb ready for bed. Christian insists on being the one to place Caleb in his new crib and I don't argue, leaning against the doorframe to watch. Christian is talking to Caleb, but I can't hear what he's saying; all I really know is that I can see a few tears falling from his eyes as he bends to kiss his son's head before finally placing him into the crib. When he returns to me, he's wiped his cheeks and silently wraps his arms around my shoulder, closing the door behind us as we walk back down the hall to his bedroom.

For several minutes, we stand at the end of his bed watching each other while we each try to figure out what to do next. He runs a hand through his hair, eyes darting around the room wearily. "I, um, I should grab a shower," he mutters. "Make yourself at home—t-shirts are in the dresser if you want one."

With that, he turns on a heel and heads into the bathroom, softly closing the door behind him. I stare at the door for a long time; before he walked away, I'd planned to offer to join him in his shower if he didn't ask first like I assumed he would. I can't say I'm comforted that he didn't even hint that he'd want me to shower with him, but I suppose the excitement of the day has tired him enough that he's not quite feeling like himself. And of course, he wasn't planning on coming home to find Caleb and me waiting for him...

Sighing, I move to his dresser and pull out a t-shirt and boxer briefs, grinning as I pull them on and remembering the first time I wore his underwear—the day after I gave him my virginity. I slip into the bathroom and glance at the shower where I can just see Christian washing his hair through the thick steam. Resisting the urge to sneak in behind him, I quickly brush my teeth using his toothbrush, then head back to bed to wait for him.

The entire evening seems surreal to me. All my plans were shot to hell when Kate and Taylor picked me up, but somehow it's fitting for Christian and me. I am beyond grateful that he's home safe and I know that without all this drama, I'd still be angry at him about Monday night. To a point, I am still angry with him; my relief overshadows it, though, and now I know we will be able to discuss it with one of us feeling much calmer.

A cloud of steam escapes the bathroom when the door opens and I look up to find Christian exiting wearing only a towel. He smirks at me. "Don't think I didn't know you were in there sneaking a glance," he says teasingly. "Did you like what you saw, Miss Steele?"

I try for indifference, proud of myself when I mostly manage it. "The view would have been better without all the steam," I reply. "Or if I was in there with you."

His smile freezes in surprise. "Is that so?" he murmurs. "Well, by all means, next time feel free to join me."

"I'll consider it," I say in a bored tone.

The smirk returns as he places one knee on the bed, then the other, and proceeds to crawl towards me, still wearing only the towel. You would think that towel would slip off his hips as he moves, but no; it stubbornly remains in place even as he props himself over me. "You'll consider it," he repeats softly, lowering himself until he's resting on top of me. "What else would you consider, Miss Steele?"

"Oh, I think you'll find I'd consider a lot of things, Mr. Grey," I breathe when his lips press ever-so softly against the skin of my jawline.

He moans in response to me pushing my pelvis into his and he can't seem to resist the urge to crush our lips together. His kiss is filled with dozens of emotions—love, promise, adoration, longing, and what I think might be fear. Fear of what, I'm not sure. Perhaps he's reliving his day aboard _Charlie Tango_. If that is the case, I feel compelled to find a way for both of us to forget. My fingers trail across his lower back, a spot I know I'm allowed to touch, and I slide my hands into his towel, loving the feeling of his firm behind. On the flight here, I promised myself Christian and I wouldn't get to this point until we sorted out our many, many issues, but as always, events have taken over. We need this; this is what we do when we need reassurance and with the tentative way Christian's hands roam my body, that is exactly what he needs.

By now, though, we should have expected to hear a fussing baby. Caleb is down the hall, but it sounds like he's right next to our heads, causing us both to jump in surprise. As one, we look over to Christian's side of the bed and I see a baby monitor sitting on the end table. I raise a questioning eyebrow at him.

He shrugs sheepishly. "I wanted to be able to hear him if he needed us," he explains, rolling off me. We lie side-by-side as our breaths return to us. He turns his head towards me. "You know, Miss Steele. Your son is turning out to be quite the cockblocker."

I sputter indignantly as his choice of description and I'd probably be much more offended if he wasn't grinning at me. "He's your son, too, you know," I grumble.

A blissful smile grows on his face. "Yes, he is," he breathes. He glances at the baby monitor again. "Should we go get him?"

I take a minute to listen to the gurgling from the monitor. "No, he's fine," I say decidedly. "He's probably just enjoying watching those stars on the ceiling."

Christian smiles proudly, then pulls me against him, my back to his chest. He reaches behind him to switch off the lights and turn down the volume of the baby monitor as Caleb continues babble happily. "I think a night of bonding with Grandma Grace and Grandpa Carry is in order for Caleb soon."

I giggle and I feel his grin against my neck. Just as we're drifting off to sleep, I hear him ask, "How long are you staying?"

For a second, I debate my answer; this isn't how I'd planned on telling him, but there's no point delaying the inevitable. "Indefinitely," I whisper into the darkness, my eyes sliding shut. "I only got a one-way ticket..."

Christian murmurs something in his sleep and I have no idea whether he heard me or not.


	12. Chapter 12

The sunlight streaming through the window wakes me, though it takes me a couple minutes to orient myself to my surroundings. Memories begin to roll through my mind like a crashing wave—I'm in Seattle at Christian's penthouse, in his bed; I nearly lost him yesterday, but he's safe and sound. Last night's fear causes me to turn onto my side just to confirm he's really here and I smile at the sight I see—Christian is fast asleep on his back with Caleb curled on his chest beneath his father's protective hand. I try to recall him bringing Caleb to bed with us, but come up with nothing. Christian must have gotten up at some point.

Watching them sleep, I'm fascinated with how perfect they look together. Though he hasn't really vocalized his fears to me, I know he's nervous about what sort of father he'll be to Caleb. So far, he's done an incredible job—of course he would; when has he done anything with the result being less than perfect? He looks so young in his sleep, so untroubled. None of his faults are present right now. And it's his faults that turn my thoughts in a different direction. We have so much to discuss if this arrangement has any chance of working. It has to work out; neither of us will be able to cope if it doesn't.

"You're staring, Anastasia," Christian murmurs, his eyes still closed even as he smiles.

"Yes, I am, Christian," I respond. "I can't help it; you two look perfect together."

His eyes finally open and he glances briefly down at his chest before meeting my gaze. "It feels perfect," he says softly, rubbing Caleb's back with one hand and pulling me against his side with the other. "Having the two of you here..." he shakes his head as though he can't believe it, "I can't imagine waking up any other way."

"Neither can I," I say in a whisper.

He turns his head to look at me with a frown, a thought popping into his mind, but before he can voice it, Caleb stirs, grabbing our attention. "We should all get something to eat," he murmurs distractedly.

As confused as I am by his change of demeanor, I slide out of bed and follow Christian and Caleb out to the kitchen. I'm smiling when Christian looks around uncertainly between me and Caleb. "I suppose this is one thing I can't do for him," he says with dancing eyes as he passes Caleb to me.

Snickering, I drop onto a stool, adjusting my shirt to give Caleb access to my breast. Christian is watching us, frowning. "What?" I ask.

Without answering, he heads back down the hall, returning a minute later with a blanket, his intention clear—he'd rather his household staff, particularly Taylor and whoever else, didn't see me breastfeeding. Rather than arguing or informing him that I have done this in public a few times—I seriously doubt he'd be happy to hear that—I take the blanket, arranging it to hide as much of my exposed body as I can. Christian nods once in satisfaction, sitting beside us. "I still can't believe you're here," he says quietly. "It was a wonderful ending to a shitty day to find you here last night waiting for me."

"I'm just glad you made it home," I murmur.

He swallows hard, averting his gaze. "I didn't think I would," he admits in a barely audible whisper. "For several, terrible minutes, I didn't think I'd ever see you two again."

Hesitantly, I meet his eyes. "It was worse than what you told your family, wasn't it?"

He nods. "My mom was upset enough as it was; I didn't want to make it worse," he says. "That landing was nothing but luck, Ana. If the wind had pushed us a little further..." He trails off, though I really don't need him to finish the thought to know what he's inferring. "You and Caleb were all I could think of. And as we were going down, my only thought was that the last time we spoke, we fought and I didn't even tell you I love you."

"I didn't tell you, either," I remind him, whispering, though I'm not sure he even hears me over his inner turmoil.

"We hiked for miles in the rain," he recalls, "and every thought I had involved telling you how much I love you and Caleb, how I can't imagine living without you, and how much of a fuck-up I really am."

"Christian, don't," I say firmly. "Don't do this right now. Please."

His expression is bleak. We don't speak again until Mrs. Jones joins us in the kitchen, asking us what we'd like for breakfast. When Christian doesn't answer, I request pancakes and she happily goes about cooking for us. Caleb finishes just in time for us to start our own meals. Silently, Christian takes him from me and places him in his swing. Mrs. Jones looks between the three of us uncertainly, then excuses herself.

"Christian?" I ask, taking a bite of pancake.

"Last night," he begins, "when I asked you how long you're staying... Did I really hear you say indefinitely?"

The hope in his eyes is infinite and while I hadn't planned on having this discussion until later, I nod. "Yes, I did."

"And that means...?" he asks leadingly, not wanting to jump to conclusions.

"What do you think it means?"

"Well..." he says slowly, "I _hope_ it means you and Caleb will be permanent residents in Seattle—more than that, permanent residents here."

I grin. "Yes, that's exactly what it means." He's speechless as he processes my words and I'm suddenly uncertain about whether I should have made the decision to move back here without consulting him first. "I... I thought that was what you wanted..." Was I wrong? Did our fight the other night change things for him?

In the next moment, I'm in his lap and he's got his arms wrapped around me like he'll never let me go again. "It is what I want," he breathes into my hair. "Of course it's what I want. I just thought..." He shakes his head. "I love you, Ana, and I will never go another day without telling you."

"I love you, too," I murmur against his neck. "And I wouldn't let you anyway."

He laughs softly in my ear.

I swallow hard, knowing we need to have the rest of this conversation. "I have stipulations, though," I whisper.

His entire body tenses and he pulls away, watching me warily. "Oh?" he asks reluctantly.

Nodding, I remove myself from his lap and return to my stool. "Yes." I take several breaths before speaking again. "The most important one—the one that will be an immediate and permanent deal breaker, is Mrs. Robinson."

He sighs as though he knew exactly what I was going to say. "Ana..."

"No," I say strongly. "I mean it, Christian. That woman goes nowhere near our son for any reason. And really, at this point, I need you to make a choice—us or her. You know how I feel about her and all you ever do is defend her like she didn't abuse you as a child." I glance over at Caleb. "How would you feel if someday some woman took advantage of Caleb like that?" I'm disgusted by the very thought, but I really need Christian to understand where I'm coming from.

"I'd fucking kill anybody who hurt him—either of you," he says with a growl.

"I feel exactly the same," I reply matter-of-factly. "So if you want this—if you want _us—_you need to make some changes."

"I choose you," he responds immediately, sincerely. "Ana, I will choose you and Caleb every time, no matter what. If you don't want Elena in my life and if it will cause you to leave me, she's gone."

"Are you saying that for my benefit or yours?" I ask him. "Christian, this is as much for your benefit as it is for ours, but you need to want it."

"I do. Ana, do you want to know what Elena and I talked about Monday night?"

Do I? He doesn't wait for me to answer.

"My intention was to go over P&L figures for the quarter, come home, and call you. She brought you up and I tried to shut it down, but she kept going until I snapped at her. I finally managed to convince her I wasn't going to talk about you with her—and before you ask, I didn't mention Caleb even once. By the end of that dinner, I was fed-up with her meddling, particularly when she spent half the time trying to convince me you're no good for me. I don't need her in my life like I once did. All I need are you and Caleb; that's it."

I'm willing to accept that, though only time will tell if he really means it. "The next thing is your reaction to Joe in my apartment Monday night." Immediately, his jaw tightens and he's readying himself for a fight. I won't back down; this conversation will set the precedent for our future and I'm not willing to negotiate on some points. "I didn't invite him over. He dropped by Monday evening with a pizza and we spent a while just talking. Nothing else happened. But for you to react the way you did to Joe when you had dinner with that woman was completely out of line. The situations aren't even close to the same thing. Nothing has ever happened between Joe and me, but you were having dinner with a woman you had a six-year affair with—I'm not even going to acknowledge the specifics of it.

"Christian, the only way you and I will ever work is if you learn to trust that I know what I'm doing—it doesn't matter to me that other men might be attracted to me; they will never turn my head from you. They mean nothing to me while you mean everything. So if you can do that, if you can trust me and stop jumping down my throat every time I merely speak to another man, then Caleb and I are here, and we're yours."

"Damn right, you're mine," he growls, pulling me against him to the point I have a little trouble catching my breath. "And you're right—of course you are. I trust you, Ana, with everything I am and will ever be; I just can't stomach the thought of losing you for any reason."

"So stop pushing me away when I do something you don't like," I implore. "You are the only one who can cause you to lose me."

He nods in understanding and for now, we can put this conversation to rest. There is no doubt in my mind that we will have hurdles to jump and bumps to trip us up, but that's to be expected. Communication will be the key and once we both learn to open up when we're angry and upset, we'll be just fine.

* * *

I am the luckiest son of a bitch in the whole fucking world. That's the only explanation. Not only did I survive an event that should have had a much worse outcome, but now the two people in the world who have come to mean absolutely everything to me are with me for good. All morning, I found myself staring at Ana and Caleb, waiting for them to disappear right before my eyes. Because things like this—amazing things—don't happen to men like me. I've done nothing to deserve them, but still, here they are.

After yesterday, I intended to take the day off work and spend as much time with them as possible. I should have known better... Between Taylor briefing me with updates about _Charlie Tango_, Andrea calling to arrange a press release regarding the accident, and my family's surprise visit, I've barely had a moment alone with them since breakfast. My family, of course, claims they're here to check up on me and make sure I didn't suffer any ill effects from yesterday. Though watching them now as we all eat lunch together, I think I've worked out their real motives—Grace and Mia have spent more time fawning over Caleb than actually talking to me; Elliot is pretending to not be interested by his nephew, but I've seen the look of wonder in his eyes; Carrick is armed with a camera and has taken pictures practically every other minute since he's been here; Kate and Ana are huddled together on the couch talking about something and occasionally, they look over at me. That smirk on Kate's face is really starting to make me uneasy.

When everyone finally decides it's time to let us spend some much needed alone time together, I realize it will be short-lived as Mia announces her plans for a party Saturday night—for my birthday. Grace jumps in as I start to glare at my sister, telling me she wants the opportunity to show off her first grandchild. Maybe I've turned into a bit of a Mama's Boy, but I find myself unable to turn her down when she looks so hopeful.

"You're birthday, huh?" Ana says teasingly when I drop down onto the couch beside her and our sleeping son.

"So it would seem," I reply grudgingly. "Any opportunity to throw a party and Mia is right there."

"How come I didn't know it was your birthday?"

I turn to her, raising an amused eyebrow. "You never asked," I answer smoothly, pulling her and Caleb to rest against me. "Besides, I'm not big on birthday celebrations; it's just another excuse for people to get shit-faced. And you heard Grace—her real intention is to show Caleb off to all her friends. He is, by far, the cutest baby in Grace's social circle; I'd be bragging, too."

"I think you're a little biased," she replies wryly.

I shrug. "We don't have to go," I tell her. "If you'd rather just stay here, that is perfectly fine with me."

"I think your mom would have a few things to say about it, though..."

To be honest, nobody else in the world matters to me but the two people currently in my arms. Grace and Mia would recover if I decided to not attend their party, but of course, I wouldn't dare make a decision like that or deny them the opportunity to spend more time with Caleb, even if I want him and Ana all to myself. Sadly, this is probably how things will be for a while as Ana gets settled in Seattle again—making contact with old friends and contacts even though she wasn't really here long enough to make too many. Will she want to look for a job? SIP, perhaps? I glance out of the corner of my eye at her when Caleb turns a little in his sleep. I should probably mention that to her at some point, but then again, maybe moving back to Seattle is just what she needs—in Savannah, she worked because she had to in order to support her and her son; now she has me and she won't have to work a day in her life if she doesn't want to. Knowing Ana as I do, I know this is a subject that will undoubtedly start an argument between us and I don't want to risk that after such a good day.

As for friends... Well, aside from Kate, there's only the photographer. That's another subject that will start an argument, but it's one we need to discuss. It won't take much exploring on her part to discover one of the other changes to my apartment, so I might as well come clean on my own terms...

"Do you still keep in contact with José?" I ask cautiously.

Her eyes widen as she turns to me. "Um, no," she answers uncertainly. "Not really. After I moved to Savannah, he wanted to know why and I couldn't give him a straight answer—only a few people knew about the pregnancy. Kate, my mom, Bob, Ray..." She shrugs. "When I started to refuse to give José answers to his satisfaction, we started to lose contact. Last I heard, he was seeing some girl and was happy."

So the boy doesn't know about Caleb. Works for me... "I went to his gallery opening last year," I murmur, resting my head against hers.

She pulls away suddenly, looking at me in surprise. "What? Why?"

I shrug and give her the honest answer, "I was hoping I'd see you there. Even though by then, I knew you were planning a move to Savannah, but I thought maybe you'd see him before you went. Actually, my plan originally, before I realized you'd gone, was to extend an invitation to take you to Portland to see the opening. It was the only valid way to see you that I could think of and it would have given us hours together..." I smile, shaking my head. "Anyway, I got there, you weren't there, and I came to the realization you were really gone." I swallow hard and she turns to me with an apologetic glint in her eyes. "I thought I'd lost you completely, but..."

"But what?" she whispers.

I smile. "Come, I want to show you something..."

Looking confused, she climbs to her feet and I lead her through the apartment, taking a detour to Caleb's room to place him in his crib. I don't think I'll ever get over having him and Ana in my home.

"Where are we going?" Ana asks as I lead her by the hand towards my study.

We stop outside the door and I'm suddenly uncertain. From an outsider's point of view, this could be seen as creepy and stalkerish, both of which are descriptions I know Ana has thought in regards to me in the past and I don't doubt it'll pop up again in the future. "This kept me going over the last year," I tell her quietly, rubbing her arms with my hands. "Even when I thought I lost you completely, I still had this connection..."

"What?" she whispers.

Swallowing hard, I press a kiss to her forehead and push open the study door, leading her inside. She gasps in shock, her hands flying to her mouth as she finds portrait after portrait of herself on my wall. Smiling, laughing, pouting, scowling, serious, thoughtful, and playfully flirty.

"Oh my God," she breathes. "Christian, where did you get these?"

"José took them," I answer quietly, leaning against the wall while she slowly moves around the study. "I went to Portland that night looking for you, and I found you in these. I stared at them for ages—they were the most beautiful pictures I'd ever seen in my life. And it wasn't until I realized everyone else at the opening was staring at them too that I knew I wasn't going home without them."

"You bought them," she breathes, making her second circuit around the room.

I nod, though she's not looking at me. "I bought them. I wanted them taken down immediately, but of course they had to stay up until the end of the exhibit." She stops in front of the one of her laughing—my favorite—and I place my hands on her upper arms, pulling her against me. "That night I saw you the way he did and I realized that I never really got to see you in that light. I was so determined to turn you into something you weren't that I was completely overriding the person you are. Ana, I want to see you happy and laughing like you are in these. I always want to see you like this; I'd do anything for it."

"We'll get there," she breathes, her voice catching as she begins to cry. "It might not be easy, but we'll get there."

Hugging her against me, I bury my nose in her hair. "I love you, Ana Steele," I whisper. "I love you so much."

She holds my arms against her with her own, pressing into me as though she's trying to make us one person. "I love you, too."

I will never tire of hearing those words...


	13. Chapter 13

By Saturday afternoon, Caleb and I have mostly settled into Escala. I thought it would be strange being back here after so long and now with a baby in tow, but Christian has been at our side almost constantly to make the transition seamless. I know it won't always be like this—at some point, Christian will have to go back to work and he won't be able to be the doting father he seems to revel in being right now. The three of us are isolated inside a little bubble high above Seattle and at some point, that bubble will burst. And where will that leave us?

In my haste to leave Savannah and get back to Christian, I didn't think any further than that. Of all the things he and I have talked about, we haven't sorted out where it leaves us—I think I know what we both want and I think it's the same thing, but there have been no defining conversations. Naturally, I over think every single interaction between Christian and me. We kiss often, but nothing goes any further than that. It hasn't since that night in Savannah. Does that mean anything or is Christian just waiting of the opportunity to let someone else care for our son for a night so he can give me his undivided attention? He says he loves me, but does he really know what it means? What about his lifestyle choices—the subs and the control and rules and punishments? There are moments when I find him staring at me thoughtfully and I can't even begin to imagine what might be going through that head of his.

"Deep thoughts, Miss Steele," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around my waist as we stare out the window of his penthouse. "What's on your mind?"

I hesitate, uncertain whether I really want to have this conversation just yet. "What's going to happen next week?" I hear myself asking.

He stiffens behind me. "What do you mean?" he whispers. "What's next week?"

I shrug. "Nothing specific. But I imagine we'll be getting back to life as normal. Whatever that is now."

"What do you want normal to be for us, Ana?" he asks softly in my ear. "Anything in the world... whatever you want... it's yours."

And I know he means it. If I told him I wanted him to sell his business and moves us to Antarctica, his only moment of reluctance would be searching for clothes that would be warm enough for us to wear. "You," I whisper, resting the back of my head against his shoulder. I feel his smile against my neck as he kisses me. "I just want you, Christian. You and our son."

"And I only want the two of you," he answers simply. "The rest is just unimportant details." We stand for a few minutes together, feeling perfectly content to do only this, then he takes a breath. "So I was thinking..."

"Oh?" I murmur, my own thoughts along the line of being able to fall asleep standing up in his arms.

"Yes. I was thinking that tonight we could leave Caleb with my parents and you and I could get away for the night."

How is it that he can pack one sentence with such promise and sensuality? I'm practically vibrating in place at the thought of what he might have in store for us. "Did you now, Mr. Grey?" I ask, turning in his arms.

"Yes, I did, Miss Steele," he murmurs. "I've wanted to have you all to myself for weeks and the time hasn't been right until now."

"Oh," I say, my voice high-pitched. "And what might this night away entail, Mr. Grey?"

He grins at me, pressing himself against my body and leaving me in very little doubt about his plans. "Oh, Miss Steele, you ought to know by now that I never reveal my plans." He begins to frown the longer it takes me to respond. "I thought you'd want to get away for a bit. Was I wrong?"

I shake my head. "No, you're not wrong," I say quickly. "Are you sure your parents won't mind keeping him tonight?"

"Is that all that's bothering you?" he asks in relief. "Baby, my mom has been begging for the opportunity to have Caleb since I got home from Savannah. He'll be absolutely fine—between my parents and Mia, since she's staying with them this week, that little boy won't have a second to himself. He'll probably be sick of them before they're sick of him."

I giggle, imagining Caleb being overwhelmed by Greys. He's always been the center of attention, but never to quite this level. "Okay," I finally agree, "we can leave Caleb with them tonight."

Christian beams at me and kisses me deeply until we're interrupted by a throat clearing itself. Blushing, I look around Christian's shoulder to find Taylor looking in the opposite direction. Sighing, Christian presses one last, firm kiss to my lips. "I shouldn't be long, but I need to take care of something," he says apologetically. "When I'm done, we can head to Bellevue."

I nod. "I'll get some things packed for Caleb."

Smiling at me, Christian winks, then follows Taylor down the hall to his study. I still find it a little surreal that Christian has decorated his walls with portraits of me—how many people have seen them? What about the subs he contracted? Did they conduct their negotiations in Christian's study under my watchful eyes? Deciding that's much too disturbing a thought to even entertain right now, I go to Caleb's room, pulling a bag out to pack for him and instead think about all the delights Christian might have in store for me tonight...

* * *

"There you three are," Grace says happily when she answers the door. "It's about time."

Christian chuckles. "I'm pretty sure we're early," he says wryly.

Grace ignores her son for the moment in favor of Caleb, taking him from me. "Hello, precious boy," she says, kissing his head. "Oh, I'm so glad you're here."

I smile as we head inside, pleased that Christian's family has so easily accepted Caleb into their hearts and he seems to like them just as much—it's so rare that he lets strangers hold him for this long without throwing a fit. Christian sets Caleb's overnight bag on the floor and puts an arm around my shoulders, kissing my temple. "I thought this was my party," he grumbles playfully.

"Of course it is, dear," Grace says, kissing her son, then hugging me. "Welcome back, Ana."

"Thank you," I say shyly, letting Christian lead me into the family room where everyone else is assembled. This is so reminiscent to the last time I was here when I'd believed that the only reason Christian invited me to meet his family was because Elliot invited Kate and he knew I'd be upset if the invitation wasn't extended to me as well. Thinking back, it amazes me how far we've come and I can't help but wonder what would have happened if I hadn't left Christian when I had. Would I have succumbed to his desire to make me his submissive despite our mutual wanting of more? Would we be here together like this with him looking at me as though his entire world revolves around me?

We spend an hour or so catching up with the Greys and Kate until the other guests begin to arrive. Christian shakes his head in exasperation at Mia when he realizes this little get-together has evolved into a real party. I hardly leave his side as he introduces Caleb and me to family friends and business associates, and I'm not entirely certain how to react when I meet his therapist Dr. John Flynn, the man I once referred to as an expensive charlatan.

"It's wonderful to finally meet you, Anastasia," Dr. Flynn says kindly, shaking my hand. He raises an eyebrow at Christian, then lifts my hand to his lips; I get the impression he's only doing this to get a rise out of Christian. I look up at him cautiously, finding him grinning and shaking his head at Flynn who only chuckles. "And this must be Caleb."

I shouldn't be surprised that Christian has told his therapist that he has a son; Christian has probably had a dozen or so sessions since he found out about Caleb to help wrap his mind around things. I know I'd need some additional help and advice if I was in his shoes.

"This is Caleb," Christian answers proudly.

Dr. Flynn smiles when Caleb takes his pinky finger in his tiny fist and squeezes, looking between the three of us. "Well, fatherhood seems to suit you, Christian," he says, glancing at me. "I don't remember the last time I saw him like this, Anastasia. So smitten and happy. It's a wonderful sight if I may say so."

Christian rolls his eyes, though he's smiling. "Now that you've thoroughly embarrassed her..." he mutters.

Dr. Flynn chuckles. The two men talk a little longer before Kate finds Caleb and me, and pulls us away. Christian remains behind and his good mood seems to fade slightly as he and the doctor begin to discuss something much more serious than before.

"So how are things going?" Kate asks, playing with one of Caleb's hands.

"Actually, they're going really well," I answer. "I'm shocked at how well he's taken to all this."

Kate smirks. "He'd be an idiot not to," she mutters. "Seriously, who wouldn't take to this cute face?"

"Katherine, I'll have to ask you not to pinch my son's cheeks, if you don't mind." Christian's arms slide around my waist and he rests his chin on my shoulder.

"And if I do mind?" Kate asks.

I can already see this conversation growing volatile—despite their outwardly joking demeanors, there is clearly still a lot of animosity between these two. It's something I'll have to deal with later, preferably when my son isn't between them. "Kate, I thought we could get together next week for lunch or something," I interject before Christian can reply. Thankfully, that seems to snap them out of their glaring contest and Kate agrees, already making suggestions about where we should go.

"I know what you did there," Christian says into my ear when Kate wanders away to stop Elliot from stuffing his face full of appetizers.

"I know you know," I reply. "I wasn't trying to hide it."

He chuckles softly. "The other guests are starting to arrive," he murmurs reluctantly. "I think I'd much rather get a head start on our night away; instead, I'll have to make a speech and have small talk with people I can hardly stand."

'I'd have thought you'd be used to that by now," I tease.

"Sadly, I am," he agrees. "Though this time, at least I have you by my side. And I have the feeling Caleb is going to be much more interesting than I am, even following a helicopter crash..."

* * *

As it turns out, I was right about who would be getting the most attention at this party. Not that I mind, particularly when Ana excuses herself to use the bathroom and leaves Caleb with me. I'm talking with people I've known all my life but have hardly interacted with—apparently a man with a baby in his arms is much more approachable than the normally glaring CEO they usually see. And even as young as he is, if I didn't know any better, I'd say Caleb was enjoying the attention, particularly from the female population.

I finally manage to sneak away from the party long enough to change Caleb's diaper before I take him to a quieter part of the house where his crib is setup for him to sleep. His eyes are already sliding closed as I pull on his pajamas and I can't hold back smile. He really is adorable. I am very much looking forward to seeing him grow up, not to mention any other children Ana and I might have. That's something we should really discuss at some point. I want to be with her from conception to labor and to help her through all of it, whether it's ridiculous midnight food cravings or letting her squeeze my hand until my fingers threaten to break. I don't want her to ever have to feel afraid and lonely the way she did when after giving birth to Caleb. She should have been loved and cherished during her pregnancy and I wish there were something I could do to make all of this up to her...

"I have to say, this is not a sight I ever thought I'd see in my lifetime."

My entire body tenses with Caleb in my arms and I turn around to find Elena striding into the room behind us. "What are you doing here?" I ask.

She raises an eyebrow, not taking her eyes off my son. "Grace invited me, of course. And given Wednesday's near-tragedy, I simply had to ensure that you're not hurt, Christian." A glance over her shoulder shows me she's closed the door behind her. Shit... "Imagine my surprise when I overheard your sister Mia talking about her adorable nephew. I would have thought she was talking about the child of Elliot and his new wife, but as I just attended their wedding, I knew that couldn't have been it. So naturally, the only other possibility was you, Christian." She takes a couple steps closer to me. "But then, that made no sense, because of course you didn't have a child. You've always been so careful, so insistent about birth control, and I know you always feared what might happen if you were to become a father somehow." Elena is just feet from us now, narrowing her eyes on Caleb. "Seeing him, though... Well, it's obvious he _looks _like he could be yours."

"Of course he's mine," I say coldly.

"Think so?" she asks. "And you just took that little gold digger at her word? Christian, you wouldn't be the first successful man to succumb to scams such as this! You're going to tell me that you suddenly became so lax in your precautions that she was able to get pregnant that quickly? Think about it! That baby might share your hair color, but how difficult do you think it is to find that shade in a bottle?"

"Christian?"

I look past Elena and find Ana entering the room. She freezes in her steps when she sees Elena, her gaze bouncing between us.

"Oh, hello, Anastasia," Elena says, spinning on her heel. "We haven't yet had the pleasure to meet. I'm—"

"I know who you are," Ana interrupts coldly. I don't think I've ever heard her sound like this before. "What I don't know is what you think you're doing anywhere near my son. Aren't you required to remain several hundred feet from minors at all times?"

I set Caleb in his crib and walk around to intervene between Ana and Elena if I need to. The condescending smile on Elena's face is familiar—it's the smile she gives women she determines to not only be below her, but the ones she doesn't consider a threat to her in the slightest. "Whatever it is you think you know about me, Anastasia, has of course been misconstrued," Elena says dismissively, turning back to me. "Christian, I have a few files at home for new potential submissives. Perhaps I could drop by the office Monday and we can go through them."

"That won't be necessary now or in the future, Elena," I say quietly, very carefully controlling my temper; if I lose it, so will Ana, and that will only upset Caleb. "I have no desire for a new submissive."

"So you say now," Elena says, amused. "But surely once this..." she waves her hand around vaguely in Ana's direction, "obsession of yours fades away, you're going to need someone who can fulfill your needs. Someone who knows you and your desires."

I can't tell which of us is more furious right now—me or Anastasia.

"She's not right for you, Christian," she implores, her voice softer as she takes a few steps closer to me. Ana seems frozen in place, fearful and livid, and I suddenly see several things for what they really are.

"Who's right for me, Elena?" I ask, keeping my voice even. "You? You think you're right for me?"

"I taught you everything you know," she says smugly, pleased that I managed to catch on finally. "I molded you into the man you are today." She casts a darting glance over my shoulder at Caleb. "What sort of father could you be, Christian? With your past, your demons, you'd only harm that child, and that's assuming he's even yours."

She reaches out to touch my arm and I jerk away from her, stumbling back a few steps. "What do you know?" I ask her quietly. "What the fuck do you know about being a parent?" My voice is gradually growing louder with every word and I'm struggling to care that I'm shouting. "You don't know a fucking thing about me, Elena! You never did! You convinced me I was fucked up and the only way I would ever succeed is if I followed in your footsteps!" I fist my hair in my hands. "The only thing you ever did for me is teach me control, and even that was tainted! You never made me feel loved or needed. You taught me to fuck, nothing else."

Her eyes widen in shock and she stands at her full height, her Domme stature. "You'd be nothing without me, Christian. Success beyond your wildest dreams when you would have ended up in jail or worse. You covet your control, Christian; what do you think is going to happen to it with a child? You'll go soft in a year and that little mousy gold digger will have you exactly where she wants you, raising some other man's brat—"

"Enough!"

I'm actually uncertain whose voice interrupted Elena's rant. When I rip my glare from Elena, I see my mother and Ana standing there both looking angrier than I've ever imagined they could look. Grace is the one who manages to find her way forward and surprises all three of us when she slaps Elena in the face. This seems to snap Ana out of her daze; she doesn't look at anybody as she walks around to take Caleb from the crib, then heads out the side door that leads outside. I want to follow her, but I'm not sure leaving Grace and Elena alone right now without a witness is the best idea.

"You keep your hands off my son and my grandson, you whore, and get out of my house!" Grace seethes.

Elena, grasping her reddening cheek, manages to slip out of the room before Grace has the opportunity to strike her again. Once she's gone, Grace finds me, accusation, disappointment, and sadness in her gaze.

Shit.

* * *

Half an hour later, I feel ill as Grace instructs me to find Ana and mutters something about needing a drink. How did I go from being incredibly happy to humiliated and furious this quickly? If I'd known Elena would be here, I would have done things differently—like skipped this party entirely. Instead, I had to listen to her hurling insinuations at both me and Anastasia, and Ana... she had to listen to Elena say things I never would have wanted her to hear. And given the conversation I just had with my mother, she heard enough to make family dinners uncomfortable for the next six months.

As for the things she spouted about Ana and Caleb... Raking my fingers through my hair, I set off to find them, desperately hoping they're still here and that Ana hasn't decided my baggage and I are too much to handle. I wouldn't blame her, of course, but I also can't let them walk out on me without a fight. I walk around the house with increasing panic, only breathing easy again when I find Ana on the back deck in a chair, Caleb bundled in her arms in a blanket. I stand for a few minutes, letting relief wash over me as I watch them. Finally, I remove my jacket and start forward, draping it around Ana's shoulders. She tenses as I walk in front of her and take a seat in the chair across from her. Her eyes remain stuck on our son.

"I am so sorry," I whisper, uncertain what else I should say right now. "Ana, I didn't know she would be here."

"I know," she whispers.

She still doesn't look up at me. "You know I've never questioned being Caleb's father. I never would; I know he's mine. And that shit she said about you..." I run my hands through my hair. "None of it is true, baby."

"Why was she talking about setting you up with submissives?" she asks quietly.

I can only stare at her for several long moments. Of all the things I thought we might discuss, this is the one I hoped she might let slip from her mind. "Because for a long time, Elena would screen potential submissives for me," I answer reluctantly. "She knew what I liked and would narrow them down for a final interview with me."

"Oh." Ana's eyes remain downcast. "Did she pick out the ones in the last year?"

I sigh heavily. "Yes. Ana, I already told you what happened with those women."

She nods in acknowledgment. "Is Grace angry?"

Snorting a humorless laugh, I edge my chair closer to find Caleb fast asleep. "Angry doesn't quite cover it, I don't think," I answer. "She knows Elena and I had an affair, and for how long, but thankfully, not the nature of it. And she heard what Elena said about thinking Caleb isn't mine. I'm not sure what she's more pissed off about."

"Can we really be everything you need, Christian?" she whispers raggedly. My heart clenches when I realize she's crying. "It always comes back to this and I still don't have an answer."

I drop to my knees in front of her and move forward, not caring in the slightest that I'm probably ruining a several thousand dollar pair of slacks. I think about everything I could say right now, rehashing an old argument about how she is everything I need and more, and go in a completely different direction. "The other night, when I lost control of _Charlie Tango_, once I got through all the thoughts about our last conversation, I started thinking about everything I'd be missing on out in the future if I didn't survive. Caleb's first steps, his first words, all the special moments in his life. I thought about..." I hesitate, knowing I'm about to say something I've never said before. "I thought about marrying you and seeing you pregnant, watching your body changing and knowing you were carrying my child." I smile, looking down at Caleb. "I've had dreams about us living in a house together—not a penthouse or an apartment—a real home—and watching our children running around a huge yard playing, and we're all so happy. The thought of losing out on those potential moments..." I swallow hard, finally glancing up at Ana and finding her staring at me in shock, tears streaming down her cheeks. "That was the most devastating moment of my life. Then I came home thinking I'd be sleeping alone again, but there you were—it felt like a dream, one I never want to wake up from." She's speechless and I smile, reaching up to wipe away her tears. "So there's your answer, Ana. You and Caleb have become the very center of my universe in such a short time span. I can't imagine ever being apart from you again and I will spend every second from here on out trying to convince you that you are now and will always be exactly what I need and more."

"Oh."

I chuckle softly at her inability to respond any further, leaning up and kissing her sweetly until she begins to relax. "I love you, Ana," I breathe against her lips. "Nothing will change that, especially not a bitter old woman who has never known how amazing it is to be loved in return."

"I love you, too," she whispers, wide-eyed.

Finally, I push myself off my knees and into a chair beside her. For a while, we just sit in silence, my arm around her shoulder as we watch Caleb sleeping peacefully. Behind us, in the house, the party is still going and I have the suspicion that my mother has told everyone to give Ana and me some time alone. I'm thankful, since I'm sure neither of us is much in the party mood anymore. I sigh. "Should we just call it a night and take Caleb home?" I ask reluctantly.

Ana rests her head on my shoulder. "No," she answers after a few moments. "I don't want her to ruin our night."

Surprised as I am at her words, they make me smile. "Then she won't," I reply simply, kissing the top of her head.

"That's assuming your parents will still babysit."

I roll my eyes. "Baby, at this point, if we took away their opportunity to spend more time with their grandson," I say, "I think my mother would actually kill me instead of forcing me to have a very uncomfortable conversation with her."

She giggles and my smile widens. "Well, we wouldn't want that," she says, looking up at me. "Okay. Let's go then."

Blinking several times as I work out exactly what just happened, I stand up beside her. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," she confirms. "Think you can face your mother one more time?"

I smile widely at her. "For you, Anastasia, I can face anything," I say with all sincerity. Her shy smile is reward enough for me and I put my arm around her shoulder, leading her inside and feeling as though this night didn't take an unpredictable, nasty turn. Just like Ana said, she doesn't want Elena to ruin our night, and I won't let it.


	14. Chapter 14

It takes us a little longer than what Christian wanted to make it to the car. I spent nearly half an hour nervously rattling off information to Grace about how to handle Caleb when he gets fussy or upset and reminding her about the bottles I left in the fridge for when he gets hungry, then told her not to forget the baby powder when she changes his diaper. She let me prattle on with an indulgent smile until Christian gently reminded me that not only did she raise three children of her own, but she's a pediatrician, and I blundered through an apology to which she assured me Caleb would be perfectly fine and instructed me to try not to worry about him, though I'm sure she knows I'll worry anyway.

Finally, we're leaving and I try to say something comforting to Christian in regards to the rather frosty goodbye he received from his parents, but I can't think of anything good enough at the moment. He opens the door for me, giving me a tight smile, then goes around to his side and sliding fluidly into his seat. The further we get from Bellevue to wherever it is we're going, the more relaxed Christian becomes and he finally takes my hand in his, squeezing it and giving me a tentative, crooked smile that I can't help but return.

"You're all mine, Anastasia," he says quietly. "I can't wait to have you alone."

I can't tell if it's a promise or a threat, but if it's the latter, it's the most amazing, delicious threat I've ever heard in my life and my insides tighten and liquefy all at the same time. Sighing happily, I lean my head back against the seat and stare out at the dark night, trying not to think of what transpired earlier.

Of course, that's impossible as I can still see Mrs. Robinson's platinum blonde hair in front of me, smirking coldly and saying things I wish I could wash out of my mind. The fact that she was merely in the same room as my son makes me feel violated and I know that if she'd tried to touch him, Christian would be working to get me out of jail for murder. For a few horrible moments, when she threw out accusations about Caleb not being Christian's son, I thought he would believe her and demand a paternity test even though I know he never doubted me for a second and never would. Then there was the resurfacing of my old fears about not being enough to keep Christian happy. I know it will take time to assuage myself of my uncertainties, but I know Christian won't give up until I believe everything he's trying to convince me of.

"Here we are, Miss Steele."

I blink back into reality and realize we're pulled up in front of the Fairmont Olympic hotel. A valet quickly approaches the car, but he's not quick enough to open my door before Christian reaches it. The young man stops so suddenly I think he might fall forward right on his face. Christian takes my hands and pulls me out of the car, grabbing our bag from the backseat. Sliding an arm around my waist, he leads me into the hotel where he quickly checks us in and declines the offer for help to our room. We don't speak a word as we step into the elevator and he wraps both arms around me, pulling me against his chest and burying his nose in my hair.

It feels good being in his arms like this just the two of us like it was in the very beginning. For once, I know there is no chance of us being interrupted by Caleb and of course, that was Christian's plan. The fact that he's waited this long to do what I know we'll be doing tonight has been a test in self-restraint on both our parts. From day one, the sexual tension between us has been so thick that we could barely refrain from touching each other for more than a minute or so when we're alone; the time since we reunited without doing more than several intense make-out sessions and of course his unexpected oral attack back in Savannah that if he'd offered, I would have immediately agreed to having sex at the party right in front of all the guests.

I understand the reluctance he'd felt about us jumping right back into the physical aspect of our relationship—not only have we been trying to get to know one another again after what could very possibly be the longest year of our lives, but if we moved too quickly like we did before I left, it's not only us who would suffer. Caleb deserves to have his parents putting every ounce of effort into their relationship.

We exit the elevator and Christian leads me down the hall to our suite for the night. As he slides the key card into the door, I begin to feel nervous—really nervous. More nervous than I was the first time Christian brought me to his penthouse. I don't understand it; we've done all manner of things together. We have a child together. I know he'll make it better than perfect for me and put all my concerns to rest. So why do I feel so awkward all of a sudden as we stand in the middle of a sitting room staring at one another? I glance up at Christian as he leans against the back of a couch and start to relax when I see my nervousness mirrored in his expression.

He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, letting his fingers trail across my cheek. "I've been looking forward to this moment since I saw you at the Mile High Club that night," he informs me softly, pulling me to stand between his legs. "But now that we're here, I have no idea where to begin."

And just like that, I'm completely at ease. Christian is normally so in control, planning things from beginning to end down to the second, and seeing him looking so overwhelmed makes me realize that this is, without a doubt, the only place in the world I want to be right now. With a smile, I reach a hand out to touch his face. His eyes flutter closed as a look of bliss crosses his face and he presses himself into my touch. I bend slightly to press my lips against his and feel his hands find my hips as he straightens up to deepen our kiss.

He groans. "I've missed you so much, Anastasia," he mouths. When his eyes open they are almost black with desire while his hands deftly begin to unbutton my shirt. I shrug out of it, sliding my fingers into his soft hair as he presses kisses along my belly and chest, working his way up with his mouth and fingers until he reaches my bra. Expertly, he unhooks the strap from behind and lets it fall, not taking his eyes off my breasts. As distracting as his lips, tongue, and teeth around my nipple are, I somehow manage to remove his shirt. He stands and I rest my hands on his biceps, even though my fingers are desperate to run through his thin smattering of chest hair.

Smirking, I know he's reading my mind and my desires. After removing my pants, he lifts me in his arms and I automatically wrap my legs around his waist as he walks us into the bedroom, never breaking our kiss until he places me in the center of a large bed and backs away to just look at me. I push up onto my elbows to look back at him, licking my lips when he begins to remove his belt. He stops when I shake my head at him, looking confused. "What is it?" he asks uncertainly.

Biting my lip, I slide down the bed to sit right on the edge. "Nothing," I reply. "I wanted to undress you."

His eyes widen in surprise and pleasure and a smile grows on his face, hands falling to his sides. "I will never deny you anything, Anastasia," he says huskily. "I'm all yours to do with as you please."

It feels like my birthday and Christmas all rolled up into one and I ignore the chuckle that rumbles through his chest at my obviously eagerness. "Damn right you're all mine," I mutter, grinning up at him. His smirk widens at my declaration while I unbuckle his belt, removing it from his pants slowly. Even before it falls carelessly onto the floor, I'm unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down along with his boxer shorts. We both gasp when his erection is free and before he can say or do anything, I lean in to wrap my lips around him. My eyes slide shut at the taste of him and I hum, making him cry out and grasp the back of my head either for balance or control—I have no idea which and I don't particularly care.

"Christ, Ana," he gasps when I sheath my teeth with my lips, moving down his shaft slowly. "Baby, you have to stop. It's been way too long and I don't want to come in your mouth."

I wouldn't mind it, but at the same time, I really want to draw this out for as long as possible. He takes advantage of my pause and pulls me away from him, pushing me back onto the bed and crawling over me. My panties have vanished and I can't be bothered to wonder when or how. The only thoughts in my head involve the incredibly hot man leaning back on his heels between my legs and looking at me as though I'm the most amazing thing he's ever laid eyes on.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, running his hands down my body until he reaches my knees, gently pushing them apart. He falls forward, bracing himself above me with his hands on either side of my head. "I want you so badly right now, Anastasia."

I'm practically panting in desperation as my fingers twitch with the want to touch him. He looks down at my fingers, his brow furrowing thoughtfully. In the next moment, he's lying on his back, pulling me to straddle his hips. He sighs when his erection rests between my butt cheeks. Reaching for my hands, I think I know what's coming, but that's the problem with assumption and Christian Grey—he never does what I think he's going to do. Instead of lifting me enough to slide onto him, he slowly brings our hands to his chest. Both our eyes are wide, locked on the other's as he presses my hands against his bare skin. I can feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest as he drops his hands from mine. I don't know how to react to this—am I supposed to explore or just keep perfectly still as he gets used to the sensation of being touched in a place he's only ever felt terror and pain.

"Your hands feel amazing on me, Ana," he whispers, though his eyes suggest something entirely different. He looks as though he's in pain the longer my hands remain on him. After another minute, he seems to have had enough and flips us suddenly until I'm on my back. Both my wrists are held in one of his hands while the free one travels down my body. Our eyes remain locked together as he slowly and gently slides inside of me, causing my breath to stutter.

Once he's buried inside me to the hilt, he stops moving, staring into my eyes as though he's searching for my soul. "Ana," he breathes, resting his forehead against mine. "You feel so perfect around me—tight and warm and so fucking wet. It's like you were made for me."

If I were able to catch my breath, I'd tell him I feel the same way, but as it is, all I can do is tighten my legs around his waist. "Please," I beg shamelessly, fisting my hands in his hair.

"Please what, baby?" he whispers through a grin.

"Move."

Nuzzling his nose against mine, he braces himself on his hands again. "As you wish, Anastasia," he replies. Slowly, he pulls out of me almost completely and I feel every muscle in my body clench as I try to keep him there. Never taking his eyes off me, he slides back in, swiveling his hips while kissing every inch of skin on my body that he can reach. "So fucking good..." He repeats this pattern for several minutes as we reacquaint ourselves with each other. Our moans and whispers mingle, our tongues and lips conveying words neither of us can voice. He drops down to rest his body on mine, wrapping his arms around my shoulders to hold me against him as his thrusting increases.

"Look at me, Ana," he demands in a whisper. "I want to see you."

I immediately obey and gasp at the emotions I see in his eyes, wondering how it's possible that anybody could possibly feel so strongly about me. Tears begin to build behind my eyes with every movement he makes and I'm overwhelmed by the enormity of the moment.

"Don't cry, baby," he whispers, kissing my tears away even as our orgasms sneak up on us. "Oh, I love you, Ana."

"I love you, too, Christian. So much."

He smiles at me and speeds up the movement of his hips until neither of us can do anything aside from holding on to the other. With a tilt of his hips, he's pushed me right over the edge and I'm crying out his name. He moves faster, harder, growling as he buries his face in my neck and lets go. I think I hear my name somewhere in between his garbled moans and I feel him explode inside me.

It's long minutes before either of us is able to move enough to just look at each other. There is wonder in his eyes as he presses his lips to mine. "Oh Ana," he whimpers, tears falling from his eyes. "I can't ever go without you again—I spent last year in a haze, not really living, just stumbling through my days and I didn't understand why until now. You're part of me and I need you to survive; please don't ever leave me again."

I wipe away his tears. "As long as you don't leave me," I whisper, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Never," he promises, rolling onto his side without leaving my body. As I drift off to sleep, I hear him whisper a few words against my forehead, but I'm asleep before my brain can fully process them.

...

I wake up around midnight with Christian kissing my bare shoulder. I roll over to find him propped up on an elbow with a crooked grin on his face. Without a word, he moves his lips to mine and kisses me deeply and thoroughly. Minutes later, before I've even had the chance to wake up fully, I'm moaning his name as his teeth scrape against my shoulder. After we recover, we decide we're hungry; Christian rolls out of bed to call room service while I take care of a few basic needs in the bathroom. It's not long before I hear a knock on our room door. I wrap myself in the robe Christian laid out for me and join him in the sitting room where I find him sitting on the floor with a selection of fruit, cheese, and nuts.

He smiles when I sit beside him. "You look gloriously just fucked, Miss Steele," he murmurs, feeding me a grape.

I blush. "Always the romantic, Mr. Grey," I reply sardonically. He only chuckles and pours us each a glass of orange juice. I'm really looking forward to the time when I can go back to drinking wine again.

While we eat, we chat about nothing at all and I'm struggling to recall whether I've ever seen Christian this relaxed in the time that I've known him. Popping a couple almonds in my mouth, I'm leaning towards not. He looks his age, especially when he laughs or tells me a story about his work. My stories aren't nearly as interesting, but he listens raptly to my every word.

Our midnight snack is long gone and I'm curled against him as he leans back on the couch, his arm around me while we stare at the dancing flames in the fireplace. I could so easily fall asleep again and I nearly do, until Christian speaks.

"I'm surprised at you, Ana," he whispers in my hair.

Furrowing my brow, I look up at him questioningly and find him watching me closely. "What do you mean?"

"I expected you to launch yourself at Elena after all the things she said to you," he explains quietly. "The fact that you didn't is rather impressive..."

I rest my head on his shoulder again. "If your mother hadn't intervened, I would have," I admit. "I thought I hated her when you first told me about her, but that was nothing compared to what I felt tonight. If she'd touched Caleb..." I shake my head. "It was bad enough she tried to touch you..."

He nods in understanding, frowning at the memory. "It felt wrong to let her touch me," he whispers. "And it was more than just the fact that Caleb so was nearby; the only person I ever want to touch me is you, Ana."

I turn slightly to look at him. "Is that why you let me touch you tonight?" I ask, suddenly very curious about his answer.

"That's part of it," he says slowly as though he's still processing the experience himself. "I remembered what you said in Savannah about how if you had been with Joe, at least he would have allowed you to touch him." My eyes widen, but he places a finger against my lips to keep me from arguing. "And I remembered all the times you told me how much you wanted to be able to touch me. I want to give you everything you could ever want, Anastasia, and if I'm honest about it, I want you to touch me just as much as you want to do it—it's just going to take some time for me to get used to it without having a panic attack. Please be patient with me."

I nod, touched by every word he is saying. "Always, Christian."

Smiling shyly, he pulls me onto his lap to straddle him and even through our robes, I can feel his growing erection. He cups the back of my neck and pulls me into a kiss that steals my breath. Though I don't think he actually intended for it to happen, before I realize what he's doing, he's lying on the floor in front of the fire with me still on top and makes quick work of removing our robes. "I love looking at you, Anastasia," he whispers, taking my hands in his to help guide me to where we both want me to be. "And I love watching you move above me." He bites his lip and presses his head back into the floor when I begin to slowly rock, our hands still interlocked as I fall forward to kiss him, my hair falling like a curtain around us. His hips begin to move, meeting mine with increasing intensity until he has no other choice but to grab onto my waist to keep me upright.

"Oh God," I whisper, my eyes closing tightly against the stars that have erupted in front of me. He is hitting a part of me I didn't even know existed, sliding his hands up to cup my breasts and pinch my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. "Don't stop."

"Never," he promises, sitting up and changing the angle of our bodies. Almost immediately, I erupt around him, screaming his name. He pounds harder into me, growling against my lips. "Again, Ana... I want to see you again."

I want to tell him I'm not sure I'm able to do it again, but my words are caught in my throat as I feel the build-up and grip his hair for no other reason than to tether myself to reality. He's whispering my name with every pump of his hips like a prayer and I watch, fascinated, as his face contorts with pleasure bordering on torture. Suddenly, he slams into me one last time, holding me against him as he grinds us together and empties himself, his lips finding mine for a languid kiss that is as incredible as the demanding ones we share so often.

"I love you," I breathe when I'm able to speak again.

He smiles lazily. "Ditto, baby."

With a lack of effort that is beyond impressive, he climbs to his feet, never leaving my body as we find our way to bed. We don't need to speak as we curl up together beneath the blanket and fall asleep within minutes, both of us with smiles on our faces.


	15. Chapter 15

Anastasia has been asleep for nearly two hours and it has taken every ounce of my self-restraint to not wake her up. I've slipped out of the room and spent some time in the hotel gym; I've setup my laptop in an attempt to catch up on some of the work I've been neglecting since Ana and Caleb arrived in Seattle. In the remaining time, I've been lying beside her, just watching her. I remember the first time I did this—the night I brought her to my suite at the Heathman. I'd never seen anything so perfect as she was that night, even passed out drunk after vomiting. Of all the thoughts I'd had about Ana that night, the one I remember most clearly was that if there was any shred of decency left in me, I'd take her home, get back in my car, and never see her again. I tried to convince myself even after taking her virginity that I was disciplined enough to wash my hands of her and walk away. The pull she had on me—that she continues to have on me—is still something I'll probably never understand and I'm not even sure I want to at this point.

As the sun begins to rise, I finally slip away from her and call for room service breakfast. My parents aren't expecting us back until this evening, so there's no rush. I've got a couple ideas of how we could spend our day; surprisingly, not all of them involve being naked. But my first challenge is waking up my sleeping beauty after little rest. I carefully slide into bed behind her, trailing my fingers across her bare thigh while my lips find her neck.

"Time to wake up, baby," I whisper into her ear.

She grumbles in complaint, but backs into me.

I chuckle softly. "Breakfast is on its way," I inform her, kissing her jawline. "We don't want it to get cold, now do we?"

More quickly than I would have expected from her, she rolls over, straddles my hips, and interlocks our fingers above my head. "I don't think I'd mind if it got cold..." she murmurs against my lips.

Well, when she puts it like that...

* * *

I've dispatched Ana to the shower while I answered the door and accepted our room service. While I wait on her, I tap out a few text messages to sort out our day's plans. I briefly considered taking her out on my boat, but the weather isn't particularly cooperative, so I'm going with Plan B—one I've been working on since finding out about Caleb. I honestly have no idea how Ana will feel about it, but I very much hope she'll go into it with an open mind.

"Christian."

I stash my phone into my pocket again and almost miss the strange note in her voice. Turning around, I find Ana watching me with bemusement, nerves, and reluctance. "What is it, baby?" I ask concernedly, jumping to my feet and crossing the room to her.

Her arms are wrapped around her middle and she steps out of my reach towards the table where she sits down. I sit beside her, wondering what could possibly be going through her mind that she actually looks a little afraid to talk to me. Sighing, she finally meets my gaze. "I'm not on birth control," she whispers.

All the muscles in my body freeze. Of course I knew she'd bring this up at some point; I only hoped it would be a little longer before I had to have this conversation with her. I swallow her. "I know," I whisper back.

Her frown deepens and I know she's bordering on annoyance. "Okay," she says slowly. "But we didn't use..."

"A condom?" I ask with a wry smile when she trails off and blushes. She nods, not meeting my gaze. "I know that, too."

She opens her mouth a few times to speak, but promptly closes it again as though she's unable to find the right words for what she wants to say. "Am I missing something?" she eventually asks.

I sigh. "Ana, the way I see it, birth control has exactly done its job in our case, and we've both said we want to have more kids, so..."

The look on her face is incredulous. "So you just decided we're not going to do anything to prevent another pregnancy?" she practically shouts. "On your own? Without even consulting me?"

Closing my eyes in the hopes I can keep my temper, I form my response. "What is there to consult about?" I ask evenly. "If it's going to happen anyway, why take the risk of doing any damage with birth control?"

"Christian! You can't just make those decisions for me!" she says, slamming her hand on the table and nearly knocking a glass to the floor. "I'm well aware that we have each talked about wanting more children—_in the future_! We've been apart for a year; I've only been back in Seattle a few days; and one month ago, I didn't think there was a chance you and I would ever be together again. We need time."

"Why?" I challenge. "You've said it yourself, Anastasia, we've been apart for a year; why are we wasting time now?"

She goes pale. "Wasting time?" she whispers incredulously. "That's what you think we're doing right now? Christian, we're getting to know each other again. We're getting past issues that drove us apart in the first place. Adding a second child to the mix..." She shakes her head at me. "That's not good for anybody."

"Ana, I told you I would make up for what you went through with your pregnancy with Caleb," I remind her. "I want to be with you from the very beginning. I want to be at every doctor's appointment, every midnight craving—whether for food or..." I allow a brief smirk that she scowls at. "Or for other things." I stand up and move around the table, stopping only when she pushes her chair away from me in an obvious effort to put distance between us. That movement is enough to convince I'm right about what I need to say next. "Baby, you left and didn't tell me about our son because you were afraid of how I would react. And you were probably right to feel that way. I need to make that up to you."

"This isn't how to do it, Christian," she says, shaking her head. "Two weeks ago, I was a single-mother. You were an unattached bachelor. We both made mistakes last year and it's going to take time for all of us—you, me, and Caleb—to adjust. I realize he's just a baby, but he's aware of a hell of a lot more than any of us give him credit for. He knows when I'm upset. He's already attached to you. What do you think is going to happen if you and I don't work out?"

I swallow hard at the thought, knowing without a doubt my entire being would shatter if that ever became reality.

She sighs, shaking her head. "Christian, I gave birth three months ago. I'm still trying to get used to the idea of being a mother and splitting my time between Caleb and the rest of my life. I don't know what I'm doing half the time; I'm not ready to add to that uncertainty."

"I don't know what I'm doing half the time either," I argue. "So between us, we'll manage."

"That isn't how this works, Christian!" she exclaims in frustration. "This is a baby we're talking about; not a business merger! Life isn't all smiles and baby laughter—you haven't dealt with Caleb when he's got an upset stomach or can't sleep, which means you don't sleep either. Having us here is still new for you—for all of us—and there are going to be times when you want to pull out your hair because you don't know why he's screaming and can't calm him down. It's frustrating knowing your child needs something and not being able to give it to him. Babies don't understand things like money and power, and you can't just buy a baby something to placate him when you don't get your way.

"I have spent the last three months pretending to know exactly how to be a parent. More than once, I've cried myself to sleep because he was upset and nothing I did helped, and I didn't have anybody to consult for ideas and advice because I didn't want to admit to anybody that I had no clue what to do with my own son."

"And whose fault is it that you didn't have help, Anastasia?" I ask coldly before I can stop the words.

She looks as though I've slapped her. I want to apologize, to take my words back, but the longer it takes, the more devastated she looks. Fighting tears, she averts her gaze from me. "Right," she mutters. "I'd like to go get my son now, please, Christian."

She doesn't give me the opportunity to respond as she disappears into the bedroom to change her clothes and I do the only thing I can at this point—I call to inform my parents we're on our way and to please have Caleb ready. Somehow, I don't think Ana is going to be in the mood for socialization today.

* * *

The moment the elevator doors open in the foyer, I make my way towards Caleb's bedroom. To say the last few hours have been tense doesn't do it justice; Christian and I haven't spoken a word to one another since leaving the hotel when he tried to pull me into his arms and I had to push him away because I wasn't ready to forgive him. I'm not sure what I'm angrier about—the fact that he decided all on his own that we wouldn't do anything to prevent another pregnancy or that he's thrown my leaving him into my face. In all honesty, I was expecting that to come up again; I just didn't think it would come so quickly.

I expect Christian to follow me into Caleb's room and I tense in preparation when I hear his footsteps approaching as I change my son's diaper. I know he's standing in the doorway, watching us, but a moment later, he walks away, presumably heading for his study. I could follow him and continue this disagreement in the hopes of solving our issues; we should be talking, not running from each other whenever we butt heads. We can't even go a week without fighting; am I really thinking of making this a permanent arrangement? Anger at Christian Grey is exhausting and eventually I'm going to get to the point that I just agree to whatever it is he wants just to save energy. I don't want that and despite his feelings about me "defying" him, I know he wouldn't want that either.

So what do I do? Wait it out until we're much calmer and hope we can have a civilized discussion? Do I just pack up and go to stay with Kate or even Ray to allow myself time to decide what I want? Or do I just give in and let him dictate every second of my life?

Well, I know the latter is not an option, not if I want to keep my own identity. And I really don't want to run away from our problems; if we have any hope of surviving, we need to learn how to communicate despite fear, uncertainty, and stubbornness. Perhaps we should have a joint session with Christian's therapist; I'm certain he'll have suggestions on what we should do.

Suddenly exhausted from merely considering the options available to me, I feel my eyes begin to close and pull Caleb closer to my chest, feeling relieved at the thought that there's one man in the world who can't argue with me—at least not yet...

* * *

The next time my eyes open, it's the middle of the night and I'm in Christian's bed, though he isn't anywhere in sight. I have no recollection of getting here, but I know he must have brought me. I sigh, wondering why he didn't join me. He could still be angry that I didn't immediately agree to his desire for another child this soon or he could just be giving me space to think for a change.

When I hear the faint sounds of a piano, I suddenly know where he is. I remember this—when he's upset and can't sleep, he plays to take his mind off whatever is troubling him. For a few minutes, I just lie in bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to him play an increasingly sad song.

I slide out of bed, wrapping myself in a robe and noticing with vague curiosity that Christian must have changed me from my day clothes to one of his t-shirts and boxer briefs. Padding out of the room, I follow the music, stopping just short of actually entering the great room so as to not disturb him yet. Only when I hear a familiar gurgling do I cross the room to Christian. Caleb is held securely in his lap with one of Christian's arms around his waist and Christian effortlessly continues to play one-handed. His shoulders tense, but he doesn't stop playing, even when I sit on the bench beside him and Caleb.

"Why is it that we can't get on the same page about anything?" he asks quietly when he finishes his song. He's not looking at me, preferring to study the piano keys intently.

"Christian, we're on the same page," I whisper. The look he gives me suggests I've never been more wrong. "As far as wanting another child, we're on the same page. We're disagreeing on timing and your approach." I look down at Caleb who is fast asleep in his father's arms. "Why are you so eager for this so soon?"

Almost the moment the words are out of my mouth and he finally looks at me, I know what his answer will be and I'm uncertain about whether it makes me feel better or worse. "Because if you're pregnant and here with me, I know you won't leave me again."

Yep. "And you think another child is the way to keep me here."

He shrugs, watching me impassively. "You know me, Anastasia, you know how I operate—I need to be in control. If this is the way to do it, then that's what I'll do."

"But it isn't the way!" I argue, trying to keep my voice even so I don't wake Caleb. "And I think you know that; what else is going on in that head of yours?"

I watch him pale and realize I've hit a nerve of some sort. This whole thing is a guise for the real, underlying problem. "Nothing," he whispers, standing with Caleb still in his arms. "Drop it, Anastasia."

"No," I respond, standing as well. "You're lying. What are you so afraid of?" That's the only word I can think of to describe his current expression—he's wide-eyed and I can practically see his heart pounding in his chest, recalling the times he told me I don't really know him and that if I knew everything, I'd run and never look back. Is that what this is? "Tell me, Christian. Trust me to be able to handle even the darkest parts of you. We can only go so far in this relationship if one of us is holding back."

"I can't tell you," he whispers bleakly, laying Caleb down in a portable crib. "If I do, you'll hate me and you won't want Caleb anywhere near me. I can't take that risk, Ana."

"That's not enough," I argue, approaching him cautiously. To my surprise, he actually backs away slightly as though he's afraid of me. "There can't be any secrets between us, Christian. I love you and nothing you can say will ever change that, but you can't keep hiding from me. If you do, it becomes easier and easier to do it in the future, and where will that leave us?"

He shakes his head slowly. "I'm sorry," he breathes. "I can't." With that, he ends our discussion by walking back down towards his study and I'm left feeling confused and scared of whatever it is he is so convinced will cause me to leave him if I find out about it.

"Oh Caleb," I whisper, taking my son from the crib and moving to sit on the couch. "Your dad has a long way to go..." I rest my cheek on his head. "We all do."

* * *

There have only been a few times in my life when I've felt utterly helpless and hopeless, and almost all of them have involved Ana in some way. I've spent so much of my life trying to remain in control and not having to worry about explaining myself to anybody. She has a way of making me feel so vulnerable that I fear she can see the absolute worst parts of my dark soul. Baring myself to her completely will only remind her just how fucked-up I am and I'll never see her or our son again.

She wants me to trust her to be able to handle me. I want to be able to trust her and I mostly do, but I wouldn't want my child around somebody like me who could so easily destroy him for life if there was another option. Of course I realize a pregnancy so soon could have the potential to ruin us for good—if she really doesn't want another child right now, she'll only resent me down the line. But when it comes down to it, I'd rather she resent me than leave me.

I can already hear John Flynn castigating me for these thoughts and telling me there are better ways to handle this situation than the one I've chosen. He'd tell me Ana is right about us not having secrets from each other and if I want to keep her, I'll have to tell her the truth at some point. It'll only be worse if she somehow finds out on her own. All I can see whenever I think about telling her everything is the fear, disgust, and hatred in her expression. Love can only blind her for so long; I've been lucky so far, but my luck has to be running out quickly. Someone has clearly made an error by giving me Ana and Caleb; how long will it be before I have to give them back?

Following what has to be the most unproductive day I've had at work in months, I finally give up and decide to head home. It hasn't escaped my notice that I haven't heard from Ana all day. Granted, I haven't made much of an effort to be in touch with her either, but I honestly don't know what to say to her. I already know I've hurt her more in the last two days than I have in a long time, and all things considered, that's saying something. Hearing the hurt in her voice through the phone would only torture me further.

"The jet will be ready for departure this evening, sir," Taylor informs me from the driver's seat.

I look ahead of me and realize he must have just gotten off the phone. "Thank you, Taylor," I respond quietly. "Has Sawyer been apprised of the protocol?"

"He has," Taylor confirms. "Everything should run smoothly while we're away."

_Should_ run smoothly... I already know how Ana will feel about having a security detail while I'm away, but nothing in the world will ever stop me from seeing to her safety, whether it's convenient for her or not. Taylor managed to talk me out of having a separate detail ordered specifically for Caleb—it's not as though he's going to be running away and the chances of him being out of Ana's care are almost nonexistent. It's the almost that bothers me, but I trust her to make good decisions if she does leave our son with somebody else. Instinct tells me I should demand she stay home with Caleb all day, every day, but rationality wins out more often than not and I know that's not an option.

By the time I arrive in my penthouse, I've only got a couple hours before I need to leave again. Plenty of time to talk to Ana. She wants me to trust that she can handle everything about me—we've already begun dealing with my touch issues and I've trusted her to not push those limits anymore than I want her to. I need to trust that she will make the right decisions for her and our son, and even if those decisions involve leaving me, I have to lay out all my cards. She deserves that much.

At first, I don't find Ana or Caleb and of course, my mind jumps to the worst case scenario, but I manage to rein in my panic in time to find them in the nursery. Ana is lying on the carpet on her back holding Caleb upright as she tries to get him to balance on her chest. Every time one of his tiny feet slips, she laughs, causing him to giggle at the reverberation through her body. I could watch them all day...

I clear my throat softly to get Ana's attention and her gaze snaps over to me. Suddenly, I understand why people find me so difficult to read—Ana's eyes, usually so expressive and full of emotion have gone blank, like shutters were dropped in front of them. "Hi," I whisper.

"Hi."

Cautiously, I enter the room and sit near Ana and Caleb on the floor, already imagining her reaction to what I need to tell her. "How was your day?"

She shrugs, turning her attention back to Caleb as he sits on her belly. "Not bad," she answers. "Yours?"

"Distracting," I say honestly. "And unfortunately, I won't be home long." She frowns. "I have to fly out to New York to take care of some business for a couple days. I'd invite you along, but I know Caleb isn't much for flying and I doubt you'd want to leave him for that long." _Not to mention, I want to give you the opportunity to make up your mind about what a sick, twisted bastard I really am without the pressure of being around me. _"Before I go, I was hoping we could talk."

I don't miss the sudden spark of interest in her eyes, however tentative it is. We've been through this before—I promise to be more open with her, but when it comes to actually doing it, I chicken out. She gestures for me to take Caleb, which I happily do, and climbs to her feet. I press a kiss to my son's head and place him back in his crib where he immediately looks up at the ceiling for the projected stars we turn on for him to help him sleep. Grinning at how smart he is already, I turn on the projector and desperately hope this won't be the last time I see him.

With a sigh, I turn back to Ana who is watching us with her arms wrapped around her middle for protection. "Shall we?"

She nods and lets me lead her out of the room towards our bedroom, and I gesture for her to sit on the edge of the bed while I try to arrange my thoughts. This has to be done right; I don't want to frighten or disgust her, though I think both emotions are inevitable at this point. I spend a few minutes pacing in front of her, knowing it's now or never.

"Ana, you asked me once if I was a sadist," I begin, kneeling down in front of her. I want to touch her as much for her comfort as mine, but I hold back. "I answered that I'm a Dominant, rather neatly sidestepping the actual question. At the time, I already knew you were special, even if I didn't know how, and the thought of chasing you away with my fucked-up past was crippling. I hid behind the belief that if you were to be my submissive, the reasons I did things didn't actually concern you. The more I got to know you, the more I realized how important it was to shield you from certain things. I didn't want to tell you about the crack whore, because I didn't want you to be upset over something that is in my past. I convinced myself over the years that I'm nothing—the dark husk of a man who sometimes gets lucky in his personal life, even if I knew how temporary it would be."

"It doesn't have to be that way," she insists. "And you're not nothing, Christian; you and Caleb... you are everything to me."

I feel a tentative smile growing on my lips. "That's how I feel about you, Ana. I want to protect you from everything that could hurt you, even me. And that's why I need to tell you the reason I do what I do; you deserve the chance to make up your mind about me once and for all."

She pales almost instantly and I recall a similar conversation preceding the belt incident in my playroom that caused her to leave me. "Why are you doing this now if you're leaving in a few hours?" she whispers.

"Because if you decide to leave me, I want you to have the chance without undue influence from me," I answer, hating every word I'm speaking and will speak in the next couple of minutes. Her mouth opens in protest, but she closes it when I shake my head to keep her quiet. If she interrupts me now, I'll never get this out. "Ana, every single submissive I've had falls into a very specific type. It took me a while to work out the reasons why I gravitated towards pale, petite women with long brown hair." I take a deep breath. "It's because they all looked like the crack whore and I needed a way to punish her for not protecting me when I couldn't protect myself and for abandoning me the way she did. For me, it was a therapeutic outlet that was acceptable so long as it was safe, sane, and consensual—and it was always consensual.

"Whenever I entered my playroom with those women, I slipped into the darkest recesses of my mind until all I could think about was making them suffer the way I suffered as a child. Sometimes, I went too far—case and point, taking you into the playroom that morning and choosing that belt to punish you with."

Almost from the beginning, I have been able to read Anastasia's thoughts. For the first time ever, I have no idea what she's thinking. "So what were you thinking about while you hit me?" she asks reluctantly.

Of all the questions I expected her to ask, this isn't one of them. "Do you really want to know?" I ask. If she does, I'll tell her, but I'd rather not say more to make her hate me. To my disappointment, she nods. "While I had you bent over that bench, demanding you count every time I hit you with that belt, I thought of all the things I've been through in my life and how it was her fault that I turned out the way I did. Mothers are supposed to keep their children safe and happy the way you do with Caleb; they're not supposed to just sit around getting stoned while their pimp uses their children as a punching bag and an ashtray." I stop suddenly, realizing I'm sharing much more than I intended and judging by the horror in her eyes, I'm not the only one who is surprised.

"I hate her, Ana," I go on. "I have hated her for so very long and it's taken me years to realize the things I do to women aren't lessening that hatred; they encourage me to keep doing it in the hopes that one day they'll make a difference. It won't, though; there are things we can't change no matter how badly we might want to. We can bury them to an extent, hide them behind a number of emotions like love, but they always resurface when you least expect it and wreak havoc on everything you've worked so hard to build. This is why I need control over everything, why I'm so desperate to make permanent ties to you. If I lose you again, I will never recover from that. But I don't deserve you or Caleb, Anastasia, and I feel like I've selfishly taken advantage of you without really letting you in. And for that, I will always be sorry. I honestly don't know what else I can do from here. The power and control is now yours, and that scares the shit out of me, because you are the one person in this world who can really, truly hurt me."

I actually have no idea how much of this she's actually hearing; her gaze is locked on a spot over my shoulder with a deep, troubled frown.

"Ana, please say something," I beg.

Slowly, her hollow gaze returns to me and I don't know how to navigate this. "You'll have to excuse me if I'm a little overwhelmed after you've just told me that you choose women—myself included, I assume—who look like your birthmother to bring into your sex dungeon where you beat the shit out of them before fucking them until they scream," she says, her tone turning harsher with every word she speaks. "Sigmund Freud would have a field day with you, Christian Grey."

"Yes, he would," I agree. "I'm sorry, Ana. You shouldn't have to deal with shit like this. You deserve only the best life with no tears and nothing but happiness. I don't know if I can give you that."

We stare at each other for long minutes while I wait for her to say something. She doesn't and when my blackberry rings, I know we're out of time for the moment. "Ana, whatever happens, whatever you decide, I will always love you. I will always take care of you and our son. My only regret is saddling you with all this information." My phone rings again; I silence it. "If you leave," I don't bother to disguise the cracking in my voice, "please call me first, just so I know you're going someplace safe. If there's anything you need, it's yours, now and always."

I take a chance and lean up, tentatively pressing my lips to her for what could quite possibly be the last time. "I love you, Ana," I breathe against her lips. "More than I ever thought would be possible."

She only nods, still watching me with wide eyes.

Despondent, push myself to my feet and quickly pack a bag for my trip, all the while glancing at Ana who is still perched on the edge of the bed deep in thought. I don't know what to do or if I should even do anything. All I know is that as I leave my apartment, I can feel my world shattering at my feet.


	16. Chapter 16

The trouble with being in love with a man like Christian Grey is that the moment you think you know everything of any consequence about him, he finds a way to throw you back several steps. From the beginning, he's hinted that there is something about him that he believed would cause my feelings for him to change and of all the things I imagined he might say, this wasn't even close to being a possibility in my mind. He was right about one thing: the bomb he dropped is disturbing enough that another woman might run for their lives and sanity. If he'd told me this much earlier on in our relationship, I would have had misgivings rather than blindly rushing towards him, thinking he's just a lonely, troubled man who I could somehow bring out of himself.

He has changed quite a bit since the day I met him—I lost track of how many times he said he didn't do hearts and flowers and he didn't make love; he fucked, hard. I discovered both statements to be wrong. He doesn't give himself nearly enough credit when it comes to his personal life, not realizing it's the little things he does that makes so much of a difference for me. It's soaring in Georgia last year; flying out to Savannah recently because he missed us; our night away from everyone and everything this weekend. Has it really only been two days since we left the Fairmont? I swear, this man is going to give me emotional whiplash.

I spent most of last night thinking about everything Christian said to me before he left for New York and the only conclusion I've come to so far is that I have absolutely no intention of leaving him. Yes, his past is fucked up. Yes, I should probably take his news as a warning. But I would do practically anything for Christian just as he would do for me. I don't want to live without him. I've done it and barely made it out on the other side in one piece.

As much as I want to chase after him and tell him I'll love him no matter what, I don't. I need time to fully process everything he's told me, lest I do or say something I'll regret. I've been waiting for Christian to call from New York, but so far, I haven't heard anything from him. I choose to believe he's busy with whatever piece of business took him out there and just hasn't found a free moment to call rather than over thinking the problem. Despite the Christian Grey enigma, I know if he thinks too hard and is left to stew, he'll do something rash like deciding he needs to break my heart to give me the happiness he says I deserve. I wonder vaguely if he'll ever realize the only way I can be happy is if he is in my life. Even when we're fighting or facing something like this, I still need him. It's only natural for our relationship to have growing pains—two stubborn, passionate people who are suddenly thrust into parenthood while getting to know one another are bound to butt heads.

Love is supposed to conquer all and I have to believe that applies to us as well.

When Christian finally comes home, I intend to have a very long conversation with him to get everything out in the open—whether it's reminding him yet again how much I love him and could never walk away from him or finding out if there are any other deep dark secrets to share. Until then, I wander the apartment to reacquaint myself with the lay out. There are several doors I've never opened—for the most part, Christian and I stuck to the kitchen, great room, his bedroom, the playroom, and the submissive bedroom—and I'm delighted to find he actually has a library here. Behind another door is a TV room complete with videogames, though I can't really see Christian sitting on the couch for hours at a time playing. My words from my very first visit to Escala when I assumed he was referring to a room just like this one as his playroom make me smile.

Though I hadn't actually intended to return to his actual playroom, I suddenly find myself standing in front of the door. The last time I was in this room, I realized I couldn't be everything Christian needs to keep his life on kilter. I'm torn on how I think I would feel if he wanted to bring me back here; we had some pretty amazing moments in this room and I'm surprised to realize the good times outweigh the one bad experience. Still, I'm not overly eager to just jump right back into that part of Christian's life; we'll need time to get back to that point.

Hesitantly, I reach out a shaky hand to open the door and I'm surprisingly disappointed to find it locked. I suppose I could search for the key—maybe Mrs. Jones has a spare—but decide I might not be able to handle the memories opening the door would evoke. Sighing, I continue down the hall to Christian's study and spend several minutes staring at the photos of me that were apparently taken by José. I vaguely recall José playing around with his camera one day and snapping photos of Kate and me—it seems Kate's photos didn't make the cut. The photos are fascinating and I very nearly wonder if they're actually of me; for the first time in my life, I admit that I actually look rather beautiful, at least through a camera lens. I can imagine Christian sitting in this office staring longingly at them when he missed me over the last year.

Tearing my eyes from them, I find the little model glider I left for him last year. He actually built it and placed it beneath a glass display case on his desk. I feel myself tearing up at the sentiment, remembering how often I sought some sort of tangible connection with him. The only thing I had was the deflated _Charlie Tango_ balloon he sent me. I still have it—currently, it's safely tucked away in my dresser.

When my phone rings, I jump, rolling my eyes at myself for being so distracted that it startles me. Hope blooms as I glance at the caller ID, which is replaced with disappointment when I see Kate's name on the display. I imagine she can hear the sadness in my voice as she suggests she and I have dinner out tonight. I remind her about Caleb and her response is predictable; there are at least four people in the Seattle area who would happily take him for a few hours to give me a break. We decide Elliot could use some practice caring for a baby, not to mention the amusement factor of knowing he'll have to change diapers. After making arrangements, I go in search of Sawyer who is apparently my babysitter while Christian is away and apprise him of the evening's plans. I don't doubt that he'll be reporting to Christian that I'm going out. I suppose I could tell him myself, but with everything we've been through recently, it's up to him to decide whether he wants to contact me about my plans. Besides, he might not be comfortable letting his brother keep an eye on Caleb. Christian needs to get used to Caleb having a babysitter when I get around to actually going back into the working world.

A couple hours later, Kate and I are sitting in a booth at a diner she and Elliot discovered that makes incredible pancakes. Thus far, our conversation has been light, even though I know she's aching to ask about what's going on with Christian. The waitress brings us a large slice of chocolate cake for dessert and I start the conversation myself.

"Christian wants another baby," I say quietly, sliding a piece of cake into my mouth.

Kate stares at me. "You're kidding," she responds.

I shake my head. "No. He didn't bother consulting me about the use of birth control, or lack thereof, and seems to think I don't have any say in the matter. I think we're still fighting about it, actually." Though at this point, I'm losing track of the arguments we're currently having.

She raises an eyebrow at me. "That's pretty messed up," she says tentatively. "Did you actually make it known that you wanted him to use a condom."

I blink in surprise a few times. "Well no, but he's been so adamant in the past about it; I just assumed he would."

"That's not really fair to him," Kate argues. "I mean, I agree that he should have discussed it with you, but that's a two-way street; you should have said something to him."

"I was a little distracted," I say coolly. "I could barely remember my name at the time, let alone form complete sentences about birth control."

"Fair enough, but if the two of you are determined to make your relationship work, you both need to communicate."

"Whose side are you on?" I demand.

"Yours," she answers, "but I also saw him over the last year and I started to understand how he feels about you. You wore the exact expression of misery and loneliness I always saw on him. He loves you, Ana."

I nod. "I know he does," I say quietly. "I love him, too, but he doesn't seem to comprehend the difference between being in control and crossing the line. And he definitely crossed the line with this."

"Then tell him that."

I groan in frustration. "I did tell him that—several times—but then I realized there was a much different problem lingering below the surface."

"What?" Kate asks curiously.

Shaking my head, I look down at our half eaten slice of cake. As much as I want to talk to somebody about this, I know I can't break Christian's trust, especially not about something so deeply personal and traumatic. I never told Kate about the nature of my relationship with Christian in the very beginning. She'd probably string him up by the balls just as she's threatened for years. "It's complicated," I say quietly. "He had a really rough life before the Greys adopted him and certain aspects still haunt him."

Kate actually smiles in sympathy for Christian. "Elliot's mentioned Christian didn't come from normal circumstances," she murmurs thoughtfully. "He said he didn't know the whole story; their parents left it up to Christian to share with him and Mia, and Christian never filled them in."

"Sounds about right for Christian," I mutter.

"Without going into detail, how bad is it?"

Well, he takes out his anger and loss on women who look like his mother by beating them black and blue. Not to mention he's finally begun to admit why he's so adamant about being touched—my heart breaks when I imagine a very young Christian being abused and not being able to do anything to stop it. "Pretty bad," I answer, "but not insurmountable. I'm thinking about seeing his therapist to get another opinion on how to handle things. Christian was afraid telling me this thing would make me want to leave him."

"And has it?" she asks knowingly.

I frown for a moment, really thinking about the question. "No," I whisper. "It hasn't. But he's still afraid. He's got serious abandonment issues, Kate, and my leaving him last year didn't help matters."

"So you do something to show him you're not going anywhere," she says simply. "How long is he out of town?"

"He said he'd be back tomorrow, but I haven't heard from him so I don't know for sure."

Kate's eyes light up as an idea hits her. I'm vaguely afraid of that expression. "This is easy, Ana," she says, leaning forward eagerly. "Go to New York."

I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean, go to New York?"

She rolls her eyes. "I thought it was a pretty straightforward suggestion. Leave Caleb with us, hop on a plane, and show up at his hotel room like he did for you in Savannah. You can tell him you haven't stopped loving him despite whatever he told you. Talk to him about the birth control and baby thing—and as much as I love you, birth control is as much your responsibility as his. Maybe more yours since you'd be the one to carry that kid around for nine months."

I hate to admit it, but she's right. "You wouldn't mind keeping Caleb?" I ask her quietly, already mentally planning this out.

"Of course not! We'd love to have him! He's the sweetest baby I've ever met; it's no trouble."

We spend a few minutes making final arrangements and for the first time since Christian left, I'm genuinely smiling and excited. After hugging Kate and thanking her for keeping Caleb so I can do this, I slide into the SUV and Sawyer closes the door. "I'd like to go to the airport, please, Sawyer," I inform him.

He looks at me, startled at my declaration. "The airport?" he repeats, looking uneasy.

"Yes, the airport," I respond, knowing exactly why he's so uncomfortable. "And if you don't mind, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell Christian or Taylor about it."

"Ma'am, I'm not sure that's advisable," he says, trying to sound stern. "Mr. Grey—"

"Isn't here," I interrupt. "If you really have to tell them, could you at least wait until I'm boarding a plane?"

He sighs, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. "Which gate, Miss Steele?" he asks resignedly.

"I'm not sure," I answer honestly. "I haven't purchased a ticket yet."

He nods and we both get quiet as we fall into our respective thoughts. I'm imagining the look on Christian's face when he opens his hotel room door and finds me there. I only hope he'll be happy to see me instead of annoyed that I'll be interrupting whatever business he's on in New York.

Neither Sawyer nor I see it coming. One second, I'm happily fantasizing and the next I hear loud squealing, a curse from the front seat, and then nothing.

* * *

It's nearly midnight in New York and while I haven't slept in days, I'm not even the slightest bit tired. How am I supposed to sleep knowing there is a possibility that when I get home, Ana and Caleb will be gone? Sawyer phoned earlier to inform me Ana would be having dinner with Kate, but beyond that, I haven't heard anything. I could call her myself, but I'm not sure I could stand hearing the disgust in her voice. There's always text message or email, but I can't think of the right words to say to her. All throughout the day while Ros and I were supposed to be hammering out fine details on our latest acquisition, I've been thinking about Ana. Ros is getting frustrated with my lack of interest and eventually she just took over for me.

Now I'm left staring at my phone, silently willing it to give me some hint about Ana's plans, while I nurse a glass of whiskey. Swallowing hard, I text 'I love you' to Ana in the hopes she'll respond quickly. There's a knock on my door and I sigh, hoping the sandwich I ordered from room service actually has taste—everything else I've eaten today has tasted like sawdust. When I open the door, however, I find Taylor in the hallway.

"A word, sir?" he asks quietly, his expression blank.

My brow furrows as I step back for him to enter the room. "What's the matter?" I ask, though before the words are out of my mouth, I know exactly why my head of security is knocking on my door at nearly one in the morning. "She left, didn't she?"

His expression cracks slightly and I get the impression he wishes that was why he is here. "Sir, there's been an accident," he says without preamble.

"What accident?" I ask, horrified. "Caleb and Ana?"

"Only Miss Steele," he says quietly. "The SUV was en route with Sawyer driving and they were blindsided. Miss Steele has rushed to the hospital; Sawyer only had minor injuries. The full force of the other car hit Miss Steele's side of the SUV. Sawyer says he didn't see it coming and he's working with Welch on finding the CCTV feeds as we speak."

I can't breathe. I stumble backwards a couple steps and Taylor rushes forward as though he's going to try and catch me; luckily for both of us, I end up leaning against a couch. "Is she alive?" I beg hoarsely.

"Yes, sir," Taylor confirms. "Some of her injuries were pretty serious and she's gone into surgery, but the prognosis so far is positive."

"Where's Caleb?"

"With your brother and his wife."

I nod. Ana is alive. Caleb is safe. For now that will have to be good enough. "Arrange a flight; I want to be in the air immediately."

"Already done, Mr. Grey." Taylor glances at his watch. "We'll head to the airport now."

During the drive, I make several phone calls to my mother to find out if she's at the hospital and if she isn't, to beg her to go keep an eye on Ana until I can get there. I call Elliot to check on Caleb—I'm assured my son is perfectly fine. Kate went to the hospital and Mia came to help him out with the baby. It doesn't occur to me until after I've hung up with my brother that for once, he didn't have a smart ass retort on the tip of his tongue. That's good, since at this point I'd probably punch him the second I saw him if he did. I check-in with Welch and Barney and Sawyer, the latter of whom seems nervous that I'm going to fire him. I'm reserving that decision until I learn more about what happened.

The one thing I learn from Sawyer, the one thing that is almost as troubling as not knowing how Ana is fairing is that he was driving her to the airport. He doesn't know where she was going from there, having avoided telling him. When I call Kate, she is similarly tightlipped, telling me it really doesn't matter at this point. I very strongly disagree with her, but an argument with Kate over the phone isn't nearly as appealing as it might be under different circumstances, so I inform her to inform her husband that I'm sending a CPO to their house to keep an eye on my son. Maybe it's paranoia on my part, but I don't want Caleb unprotected; Elliot and Mia would never let anything happen to him, but my security team is trained to deal with my paranoia.

Taylor and I board the plane, and I'm forced to admit there isn't anything I can do for Ana right now, not from the other side of the country. As is always the case when it comes to Ana, I'm completely helpless and have no control, and I've never been more afraid in my life.

_Hold on, baby,_ I think desperately. _I'm on my way._


	17. Chapter 17

"Christian!"

I look away from the nurse I've been shouting at for the last minute and a half and turn towards the familiar, comforting voice of my mother. "Ana," I choke out when I reach her.

Grace smiles sympathetically, patting my arm in an attempt to comfort me. I vaguely hear her apologize to the nurse before she leads me down the hall to a room where Kate and my dad are sitting. Both of them get to their feet when we enter and I take small comfort in the realization that they don't look as though they've been crying and mourning the loss of somebody.

"Where is she?" I demand, fisting my hands in my hair as I look between my parents and Kate.

"Resting," Grace says softly. "She made it through surgery perfectly fine and she will be moved to a private room shortly where you can sit with her."

"What are her injuries?"

Grace sighs. "Given the circumstances, they could have been much worse and would have been without the airbags in that car. As it is, they caused a few cracked ribs when they deployed. The speed of the crash caused enough damage to the vehicle that the Jaws of Life were necessary to get her out. The paramedics discovered a metal protrusion in her spleen and the surgery was necessary to stop some internal bleeding. Her right arm is broken in several places and she's suffered a concussion, but there won't be any brain damage."

I stare at her in horror. Short of death, how could it possibly get worse than that? The fucking Jaws of Life? On second thought, I probably shouldn't focus on that right now; I'm quickly losing my composure as it is. The four of us glance up when Taylor knocks on the door, his gaze locked on me. "A word?" he asks quietly.

I nod and stand, not knowing when I sat down, and follow Taylor down the hall to a room where we find Sawyer sitting on the edge of a bed with a laptop set up in front of him. When he sees me, he can barely disguise his anxiety, but at the moment, I can't be bothered to play the blame game right now, despite the fact that Sawyer's training should have made him aware of danger.

"Mr. Grey, we managed to access the CCTV a block from the crash site," Taylor explains, nodding for Sawyer to turn the laptop towards me. "It doesn't allow a perfect view of the accident, but it's enough to make a few conclusions."

"And what would those be?" I ask, staring at a freeze frame of an unsub making contact with one of my SUVs. I can't help but wonder whether Ana saw the car speeding towards them and whether she was scared. Is she in pain? And why the hell was she going to the airport in the first place?

"Specifically," Sawyer says, adjusting the sling around his shoulder that cradles a broken arm, "that we believe the unsub sped up at the intersection in order to hit our car." He hits a button on the laptop and I watch with increasing anger as another car begins moving far too quickly, blowing through a red light and hitting the SUV. It slides sideways several hundred feet until Sawyer seems to get control of it, narrowly missing yet another car. Glass and metal litter the street, and seeing the accident first-hand, it's a miracle Ana survived at all.

"Do we have an identity for the other driver?" I ask evenly, still staring at the screen.

"We're working on it, sir," Sawyer says. "But it seems the driver disappeared following the accident. I believe the crash was an intentional attack and somebody pulled him from the wreckage. Unfortunately, the street was too jammed with onlookers and nobody was paying enough attention to give the police answers. The car's tags were fake and we never got a good look at the guy."

"Find him," I demand through gritted teeth. Without listening for their responses, I stalk out of the room, intending to return to the waiting room with my family. My mother is waiting for me not far down the hall from Sawyer's room. "Mom?"

"Ana is settled," she tells me gently. "You can see her now if you'd like."

I nod, unable to form words as she leads me down a few corridors. We enter the Intensive Care Unit and arrive outside a private suite. Through the window, I can see Ana lying in a bed with tubes attached to her and bandages wrapped around parts of her body. "Oh God," I breathe. Even from outside, I can see she's sustained several bruises to her face, probably from the airbag of the SUV.

"She will recover," Grace assures me quietly. "Christian, she'll be fine."

I don't respond as I leave my mother standing outside when I enter the room. The only sound is the soft beeping from Ana's heart rate monitor and if I didn't know any better, I'd say she was just asleep. I take the only chair in the room and bring it to her bedside, sitting and taking her hand in mine. She's so cold and I have half a mind to tell the hospital to turn the heat up before she freezes to death. "I feel like this is my fault," I admit in a whisper, staring at her bruised, swollen face. "Maybe if I hadn't left you with so much to think about, you'd have done things differently and you'd never have been on that fucking street. I knew all along that telling you the truth about me would cause you to leave me; this isn't what I envisioned. I wish I could take it all back, Ana—not just what I said before leaving, but for the birth control fight and every other thing I've done to hurt you.

"I'd do anything to have you back, baby." I'm practically whimpering right now and I don't care. "Even if you do leave me when you wake up, I need to know you're okay. I love you, Anastasia, so fucking much it hurts. You have to come back; Caleb needs you and I have no idea how I could possibly take care of him without you. Do it for him if you don't want to do it for me. Just wake up..."

* * *

Around three in the morning, a nurse comes in to check on Ana and she suggests I grab a cup of coffee or something if I'm going to insist on sitting at her side all night. Grudgingly, I do as instructed—I could use the caffeine boost anyway. I wander down to the cafeteria, surprised when I find Kate sitting at a table, nursing her own coffee.

"Still here?" I ask, sitting across from her.

She nods. "Yep," she answers. "How's Ana?"

"Asleep," I say wearily, running my hands down my face. "The doctors and nurses have been careful not to call it a coma, but that's exactly what it seems like to me."

Kate wipes at her eyes, sipping her coffee. "She told me you want another baby."

"Did she now," I mutter uninterestedly. Katherine Kavanagh-now-Grey is the very last person I ever want to have this conversation with.

"You do realize you can't dictate what she does with her body, don't you?"

I raise an eyebrow at the vaguely threatening tone Kate's voice has taken. "Yes, I do realize that," I say. "It's something Ana and I need to discuss when she wakes up—I owe her an apology."

"Do you know why she's so hesitant about having another baby?" Kate goes on speaking as though she didn't hear a thing I said. "What has Ana told you about her pregnancy with Caleb?"

I frown, knowing I'm going to sound out of the loop with my answer. "Not much," I say quietly. "She said it wasn't easy, but we haven't discussed it any further than that."

"Well, let me fill in the blanks," Kate says, holding my gaze. "She was a wreck for the first few months, not eating, not sleeping, nothing. She was finally starting to improve and actually get excited about being a mom until she and I were watching TV one night when I visited. Somehow we landed on a cable news channel and I can still see how pale she got when she saw you on the screen."

I know immediately what Kate is referring to: Awhile back, I was featured on a news program to discuss my work regarding green technology. I hadn't wanted to be on camera, but my PR team insisted I do it to bring more attention to the cause. I haven't thought much of it since the interview, but now I can imagine Ana watching the program, missing me just as much as I missed her.

"After that, she reverted to not taking care of herself. Finally her doctors spelled it all out and told her if she didn't change her behaviors, not only would she have lost the baby, but chances were high she might not survive either. She managed to get through the rest of her pregnancy, but had to have a C-section because both she and Caleb were in distress—she wasn't strong enough after a rough pregnancy. I knew if something happened to her, I'd have to come back home and break the news to you. I was so pissed at her for a while for not telling you about Caleb to begin with. Before seeing you again, she was pretty well set on not having more children—aside from the fact that I don't think she could be with another man and be happy, she mentioned a few times that she was afraid she wouldn't be strong enough a second time."

Suddenly, a lot of things fall into place and I understand her reaction to not using birth control.

"I told her when we had dinner tonight—or last night," she says wryly, glancing at her watch, "she is just as responsible for birth control as you are. I'm not getting any more involved than that, but I will tell you that if you handle this the wrong way, she will leave you."

"She's already leaving me," I mutter bitterly.

Kate frowns. "What are you talking about?"

"She was on her way to the airport when she was in the accident," I answer. "What else could she have been doing if she wasn't leaving me?"

Kate's mouth drops open and for a moment, I think she's actually a little amused. Thankfully, she hides that expression quickly. "You think Ana was leaving you?" she checks. I glare at her in response. That is what I just said... "Christian, you're an idiot."

"Excuse me?" I say loudly. "Where the fuck do you get off—"

She's losing patience with me. "Think about it; if she was leaving you, why wouldn't she have taken Caleb with her rather than dropping him off with Elliot and me?"

The answer should be obvious, but I don't want to jump to conclusions just yet. "What are you saying, Kate?" I ask quietly.

"Yes, she was headed to the airport, but she wasn't going to leave you. She was going to get on a flight to New York so she could surprise you at your hotel."

My heart begins to beat again when I realize what she's insinuating. "She wasn't leaving me?" I whisper.

Kate actually cracks a smile. "No, she wasn't leaving you. She was talking about some discussion the two of you had before you left—she didn't go into details," she quickly adds when my eyes widen incredulously, "but she did say she wanted you to know her feelings for you haven't changed."

"She said that?" I can't remember being this relieved by anything Kate has said to me ever.

She nods. "You need to have a bit of faith in her," she admonishes. "The girl is stronger than any of us give her credit for and she isn't going to give up on somebody she loves, no matter how messed up they are."

"Well, I was going to say thank you up until that last sentence," I grumble, smiling to show I'm joking. Kate returns it. "I should get back to her; I don't want her to wake up alone and scared."

Kate nods again. "And I should go check on Elliot and Mia," she says, standing. "Would you like me to bring you anything in the morning? Might do you some good to see Caleb..."

My eyes widen in surprise at the offer. "You'd do that?"

She shrugs. "Why not? It's pathetic enough to watch you moping around this place looking lost and Caleb is good for a few smiles even in the worst of circumstances."

I would hug her if not for my phobia... "Thank you, Kate," I say genuinely. "Really."

"Don't mention it, Christian. Just do us all a favor and don't fuck this thing up with Ana. She's been through enough already."

With that parting advice, Kate leaves the cafeteria and a few moments later, I finish off my coffee and return to Ana, feeling much lighter than I have since finding out about the accident.

* * *

I'm hot. Really hot. And my hand feels like it's being held in a vice grip. The rest of me doesn't feel all that great, either. Everything hurts and movement seems impossible right now. The last thing I remember is dinner with Kate when I decided I was going to fly to New York to surprise Christian. Sawyer was driving me to the airport and... nothing.

I manage to open my eyes, though that hurts, too, and I think I'm a hospital room. My gaze moves towards my middle and I see why I'm so overheated—Christian Grey's arm is resting across my hips and he's gripping one of my hands tightly. That explains a few things. I try to flex my fingers in the hopes of getting his attention—talking seems like too much of an effort right now. It does the trick; Christian's head jerks up with the slight movement and his gaze locks on me.

"Ana," he breathes, retracting the arm lying across me and brings my hand to his lips. "Oh, thank God."

I try to speak, but he shakes his head. "Save your energy, baby," he instructs, kissing my fingers. "You were in an accident." His eyes close and he shudders slightly. "You're going to be fine. I promise."

I nod, wincing at my sore neck.

A nurse enters the room, but I'm too exhausted to be really engaged in whatever she and Christian are discussing—judging by his pursed lips, I assume it's something pertaining to me that he doesn't particularly agree with. Before I can really work out what that might be, I'm asleep again.

* * *

"What am I going to do with you, Ana Steele?"

I try to smile and come up with a smart mouth reply about exactly what Christian should do with and to me, but my vocal chords don't seem to be cooperating.

He presses my fingers to his lips. "You'd think at some point we'd stop being shocked by each other and have a normal day," he goes on wryly. I can almost see him shaking his head. "Despite the stress and the fear and the uncertainty you tend to put me through, I have never felt more alive than I do when I'm with you, Ana. I'd give anything to have you by my side for the rest of my life." He takes a breath, releasing it slowly. "More than anything, I want to—"

I don't hear the end of his sentence; somebody enters the room and the warmth I felt with Christian right beside me disappears. I can think of at least a dozen things I'd want him to do more than anything...

* * *

"Sir, could I have a word?"

I sigh, standing and pressing a kiss to Ana's lips. "I'll be back soon, baby," I promise. When I turn around, Taylor is looking anywhere but at us in an attempt to give us some privacy. Smooth, Jason. Real smooth... "What is it?" I ask when we step out into the hallway.

"We discovered the identity of the driver responsible for the accident."

Finally, some news... "And?" I snap.

Taylor hesitates as though he knows exactly how I'm going to react to whatever he's about to say and wants to avoid it. "Jack Hyde, sir."

For a moment, I stare blankly at my head of security. The tone of his voice suggests I should know exactly to whom he's referring and the reasoning behind it. Normally, I probably would, but between not sleeping for days and my worry about Anastasia, I'm not feeling particularly sharp today. "Who?"

"Jack Hyde," he repeats. "He was an editor for SIP."

Oh. That guy. I remember him clearly now; not long after Ana left last year, my purchase of Seattle Independent Publishing was finalized and as I was restructuring the company to keep it from going stagnant, several troubling instances popped up in regards to Hyde. He rarely had a personal assistant that lasted more than a couple months and a little more digging showed why—I still shudder when I think of the videos found on his computer, knowing how close Anastasia was to actually working with the sick bastard. A few months into my takeover of the company, he was fired for sexual harassment of his most recent PA who claimed he attacked her during a trip to New York for a publishing convention.

"Why would that prick hit one of my cars?" I ask. "That was months ago."

"It seems he's been holding a grudge," Taylor explains. "The accident was intentional, sir; the only thing that wasn't intentional was Miss Steele's presence in the car. We believe Hyde assumed you were the passenger that day—you were the target."

I take a moment to let this sink in. "You're telling me that some piece of shit I fired months ago is responsible for all this because he believed I was in that car?" I ask. "He tried to kill Anastasia because he's got a grudge against me? Where the fuck is he now?"

Taylor knows better than to honestly answer that question, particularly when I'm shouting and looking like a complete homicidal madman. "In custody, sir. He was taken to a hospital in Tacoma to get treatment from serious injuries. Sawyer put it all together and contacted the local LEOs there; once Hyde regains consciousness, he'll be questioned and charged with attempted murder. On top of that, he was drunk off his ass—his blood alcohol content was nearly triple the legal limit. It's a wonder nobody else got hurt."

"Bring my father up to speed," I instruct Taylor once I get my temper and anger under control. "I want him on this—maximum prosecution." _Actually, what I really want is to drive down to Tacoma, find that bastard, and beat the shit out of him for hurting Ana. _

"Understood, sir," Taylor says, and I get the impression he knows exactly what I was just thinking. The look in his eyes suggests he wants exactly the same thing. From the beginning, I know he's had a soft spot for Ana. Most people do once they get to know her. With anybody else, I'd be staking my claim over her, warning away anybody else who might threaten our relationship, but I know Taylor better than that. His fondness for Ana is purely platonic and just makes him more determined to protect her.

I dismiss him and return to Ana's room, freezing in my tracks just inside the door. Her big blue eyes hazed with pain medication are open and trained on me. "Hi, baby," I whisper, crossing towards her and sitting down again. She manages to smile at me when I take her hand in mine. "How are you feeling?"

"Hurt," she croaks.

"I'll get you something for the pain." I start to stand, but she grips my fingers tightly. "What?" I ask her.

"Don't go," she whispers.

I immediately sit down again. "I'm not going anywhere, Ana," I whisper. "Never."

She smiles in relief. "Good."

I return her smile and chuckle against her knuckles. "I thought you left me," I say before I can stop the words. Her brow furrows adorably, not understanding what I'm saying. "Sawyer told us you were on the way to the airport and I assumed it meant you were running again. I couldn't get back home fast enough. And then I saw you lying in this bed and I was afraid you wouldn't make it." I blink a few times against the dampness in my eyes.

"It was a surprise," she murmurs hoarsely as an explanation. "Wasn't leaving."

I smile at her. "I know that now," I assure her as her eyes begin to close again. "Kate told me."

"Love you," she mouths as she falls asleep.

"I love you, too, Anastasia," I murmur, knowing she'll hear me. "I always will. Be patient with me, baby; I'm trying."


	18. Chapter 18

_As I enter Christian's Escala penthouse, I reread the text message he sent me asking me to meet him in his playroom. I got here as quickly as I could, my stomach full of nerves and excitement when I began imagining what he might want to do when I arrived. The apartment is dark and empty, and aside from my own rapid heartbeat, I can't hear anything. _

"_Christian?" I call out, my voice echoing eerily. "Where are you?"_

_With increasing unease, I take the familiar path through the apartment towards the playroom and find the door cracked open. It's only when I reach out to push it open further that I hear sounds from inside. There's a loud snap and a woman cries out in ecstasy, begging for more. I want to turn around and walk away, and find Christian to ask him who is in the playroom.  
_

"_Quiet," hisses a cold voice that I'm very familiar with._

_Against my better judgment, I look into the room and find Christian wearing a pair of faded, ripped blue jeans and holding a riding crop in the striking position. Looking past him, I see a naked woman tied to a bench in a way that her ass is in the air, her face pressed against the polished wood surface. _

"_So beautiful," Christian murmurs, rubbing the woman's bottom. He removes his hand and hits her with the crop again, then immediately shoves two fingers inside her roughly. She moans in pleasure and Christian doesn't silence her this time as he pushes his jeans down to his ankles, climbing onto the table behind her and slamming himself into her. _

"_Fucking amazing!" he shouts, holding himself deep inside her body._

_I stare transfixed and horrified as he fucks her, and I reluctantly step into the room, crossing to them. When I first see the woman, I think she might be me—she looks like me anyway—but the longer I watch Christian smacking her while he fucks her, alternately pulling her hair and twisting her nipples so hard it must be painful, but she's obviously enjoying it._

"_Why are you doing this?" I ask Christian, tears streaming down my face._

_He looks at me, sweat beading on his forehead and a cold smile on his lips. "You knew this would happen, baby," he says, panting. "There was never any real chance that you could change me. You can't handle my needs; you know why I need this outlet."_

"_But you said I'm enough for you," I argue weakly._

"_And you were for a while," he answers, still pounding into the woman on the table who is smiling triumphantly. "I'm not a family man, Anastasia. Love is for fools."_

"_What about our son?"_

_He smirks at me. "You can't possibly give him the life he deserves without me," he says coldly. "But don't worry; he'll have plenty female influence." His eyes move past me and I turn around, finding Mrs. Robinson standing behind me holding my son in her arms. _

"_No..." I sob. "Christian, please don't do this..."_

* * *

"Ana." The voice is urgent. "Ana, wake up, you're having a nightmare!"

I gasp as my eyes snap open and I immediately see Christian standing over me with a concerned expression. He only relaxes slightly when he realizes I'm awake, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking my good hand in his. "Christian," I whimper, feeling tears falling down my cheeks.

"It's okay, baby," he says comfortingly, wiping away the wetness from my eyes. "You're safe now."

I manage a weak nod after a minute or two.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he murmurs. If I was a little more aware of my surroundings, I'd notice that he looks as though he already knows what I was dreaming about.

"No," I whisper. "I'm okay now." He sighs, but doesn't push the subject. When he starts to get off the bed, I grip his fingers. "Lay with me?" I ask him hopefully.

He hesitates, eyeing the small bed with a torn expression. He obviously wants to give me what I want, but he's afraid of hurting me. "I'm not sure the hospital staff will approve," he mutters half-heartedly.

"Since when do you care about people approving of you?" I challenge.

Narrowing his eyes at me, I know I've won this one. "Scoot over, Ana." Carefully, he climbs onto the bed, kicking off his shoes and relaxing into the pillows. He pulls me against him carefully, minding my IV and broken arm. Once we're both comfortable, he kisses my forehead. "I missed this."

I smile at his admission. "Me too."

He nuzzles his way through my hair, pressing his lips to the back of my neck. "You know, one of these days we're going to go an entire week without something horrible happening to us," he murmurs.

"I really hope so," I respond. "This is getting to be too much." I feel him tense behind me and I realize how he might take my words like I'm overwhelmed and want to leave. "I didn't mean it like that."

He freezes for a moment, eventually relaxing when he realizes I'm being honest. "What were you going to do when you got to New York?"

I manage a shrug. "I was going to surprise you at your hotel and tell you your past doesn't change how I feel about you. After you left, I realized I should have told you before your flight." My brow furrows as I recall something he said earlier, but was passing out from the medications and unable to fully process it. "Did you really think I was leaving you?"

"Yes," he answers regretfully. "Sawyer told us you were on the way to catch a plane and my mind ran away with me."

Carefully, I turn over onto my back so I can see Christian looking at me warily. "Aside from the fact that I've told you I wouldn't leave you, I didn't have any luggage with me and I left Caleb with Kate and Elliot."

"I know," he says quietly. "Kate pointed out the problems with my theory and once I realized that, I knew you weren't leaving."

"How are we going convince one another we're not going anywhere?" I ask him. "Every time something troubling pops up, one or both of us panics and it ends up like this."

He shrugs one shoulder, tracing my midsection through my blanket with a finger. "We should probably first discuss what I told you before I left," he says reluctantly. "Ana, I know it came as a shock to you; what I need is for you to tell me you can handle all of this."

Sighing, I struggle not to roll my eyes, knowing this is something that is really bothering Christian to the point that he's been reduced to a vulnerable little boy. "It was a shock," I agree quietly. "But some of the things I said to you after your admission were cruel and unnecessary. I think I understand you better now—why you did what you did before—and given your past, it probably could have been much worse."

"It was never about sexual attraction to my birthmother," he says quietly. It strikes me suddenly how strange it is to be having this conversation, but we both need me to hear him out. "It was about the punishment aspect. That's what drew me to that lifestyle. I wanted to make her suffer for abandoning me and it was the only way I could deal with those feelings. And yes, having women trussed up in my playroom turned me on—a lot. But by the time I got to that part of it, it really was sex with whoever I happened to be with." He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. "Ana, you're nothing like her. You're nothing like any of them and that is what I love about you. You're a breath of fresh air. You make me see the world differently. I never thought I could get past my childhood, and then you came into my life and I stopped thinking about it so much. You and Caleb make me want to be a better man, and with the two of you at my side, the rest of my life doesn't matter."

To my surprise, he sits up, turning to face me completely. "Ana, you asked how'll convince one another we're not going anywhere," he begins. "There's one thing we can do."

The moment I see the anxiety in his expression, I know what will come out of his mouth next. My breath catches and I try to work through how I feel about it. But before he can take a breath to speak, a nurse enters the room to check on me. Christian scowls at her and as bad as it sounds, I'm relieved he couldn't get the words out; sitting in a hospital bed, high on painkillers isn't exactly how I ever thought this scenario would play out.

When the nurse finishes, Christian seems to consider the moment broken and watches me with what I can only describe as disappointment. "You should get some sleep, baby," he instructs quietly.

I agree, but I'm not quite finished talking to Christian. "How's Caleb?" I ask even as my eyes begin to close again.

"He's fine," Christian promises, smiling softly. "If you'd like, I can have somebody bring him tomorrow."

I hum my agreement and smile, and before I fall asleep again, I hear him chuckle.

* * *

Much to my relief, Ana won't have to spend an extended amount of time in the hospital. The doctors want her to have a CT scan to double check her head injury and assuming everything is clear, I'll be able to take her home this afternoon. It's a good thing, since Ana is getting cranky, possibly from being confined to her bed for this long. When I brought her breakfast after getting an update from Taylor and his team, she stubbornly refused to eat more than a few bites and told me if I was so determined to see the pancakes disappear, perhaps I should eat them myself. Even Kate was on the receiving end on Ana's annoyance, though she was much more amused by it than I was. The only time Ana has been in a good mood today was when Elliot walked into the room carrying Caleb. It took Ana a bit of time to figure out how to hold her son with a broken arm, but she managed it.

I love watching them together—they're so good for each other, made for the bond they share. I knew Ana would be a natural mother and I was right. Vaguely, I wonder what my life would have been like if my own birthmother was anything at all like Anastasia. I would, without a doubt, be a very different person and probably wouldn't have been nearly as driven towards success as I am. The determination I've had for my adult life to never allow myself to be poor or hungry again powers practically everything I do. The thought of seeing the people I love suffering is something I will do absolutely anything to avoid. As much as I hate to admit it, it's partly because of the crack whore that I've been so successful in the business world. Elena likes to think it's down to her—she loaned me the start-up capital for my business and taught me control over my life. In a way, it is because of her lessons in discipline, but without my shrewd business sense and instinct, I would have failed miserably. So many different experiences have shaped me into the man I am today, though now the only man I want to be is one deserving of happiness Ana and Caleb can provide. I'd give up everything for them if I had to without a second thought.

I may not have had the greatest start in life, but I'll be damned if my son's life is anything less than perfect. In order to ensure that, I need to get to the bottom of this fucking mess with Jack Hyde before anyone else is hurt.

"Well, Miss Steele, we've got your test results."

I immediately return to the present when Ana's doctor enters the room. "And?" I ask.

The doctor looks at me oddly, probably debating whether to acknowledge my demand—hospital policy dictates only the spouse of a patient is privy to such information. Clearly, however, my reputation precedes me; enough of the hospital staff has dealt with me since Ana was brought in that none of them bother questioning what I say and do anymore. Regardless, the doctor turns his focus to Ana. "The scans were clear—no signs of bleeding—but if you begin to experience severe headaches, seek medical attention immediately, just to be safe. As for your other injuries, your ribs are already beginning to heal, but you'll need to take it easy for a few days—no heavy lifting or marathon running." He cracks a small grin at his joke while Ana looks at me nervously. _Yes, baby, I will be ensuring you follow doctor's orders to a T._ "We'll want to see you again in a week to check your stitches and x-ray your arm to make sure it's healing properly. With the number of broken bones you suffered and where they were broken, it would be incredibly easy for them to heal incorrectly. I'll write your prescriptions for pain medication to take when you need them."

"I'm breastfeeding my son," Ana interrupts before I can get the sentence out, "will those medications be safe for him?"

"Of course," the doctor assures her with a smile. "Perfectly safe for the baby. I'll have the nurse printout all the instructions for your reference."

"How long before her release is finalized?" I ask, already texting instructions to Taylor for a ride home and to Mrs. Jones to make Ana more comfortable while she's stuck on bed rest for the next few days. She will not want for anything—I'll be there to get whatever she needs and ensure she doesn't hurt herself further.

"Soon, Mr. Grey," the doctor says tartly, pursing his lips and only giving me a sidelong glance. "Any more questions for me, Miss Steele?"

Ana's lips twitch when the doctor emphasizes her name, clearly deciding he's had enough of dealing with me. "No, I think I've got it," she answers. The doctor leaves the room and I turn to Ana who is barely containing her amusement. "Another one for the Christian Grey fan club," she murmurs teasingly.

I raise an eyebrow at her. "Aren't you the president of that fan club?" I ask, sitting on the edge of her bed and taking her good hand in mine.

"Most of the time," she says pointedly. "It will depend on your behavior with my doctor's instructions."

"Anastasia, you ought to know be well enough by now to know exactly how I will behave with your doctor's instructions. You won't be lifting a finger for a week."

I can see her wanting to roll her eyes at me. "I'm pretty sure those weren't the instructions," she grumbles.

"I'm free to interpret them however I wish," I tell her smugly. A moment later, my smile slips and my thoughts drift back to the reason she's in the hospital in the first place. "For once, Ana, please let me take care of you."

Her brow furrows and I know she's picked up on the underlying words—the ones about how it's my fault she's here at all and allowing me to take care of her will go a long way in forgiving myself. Before she can speak, though, Taylor enters the room, his expression tight. Now what?

"A word, sir?" he says, giving Ana a brief smile. Normally he would ask her how she's feeling and the fact that that he isn't is bothersome.

"Of course," I agree, leaning to press a kiss to Ana's lips. "I'll be back soon, baby, then we can go home."

She gives me a smile. "Can't wait," she says shyly.

Out in the hallway, Taylor leads me into an empty room, presumably so we're not overheard. "Sir, as you know, we've been investigating the _Charlie Tango_ crash since we retrieved it a few days ago," he begins. "It's highly irregular for both engines to catch fire the way they did when you were flying. At first we were putting it down to bad luck since there was no hint of sabotage, but upon further investigation and in light of the car accident, we're looking into the possibility that, like the car, _Charlie Tango_ wasn't an accident."

"Fuck!" I exclaim, fisting my hands in my hair as I walk around the room. This is exactly what I've been afraid of since the crash, though I was having trouble working out _how_ somebody could have sabotaged my helicopter. When not in use, it's safely locked away in a hangar with the other GEH aircraft and the security surrounding that hangar is strict and unyielding. "The GPS was disabled; I suppose you think that was intentional as well?"

'Yes, sir," Taylor confirms. "Since the GPS is locked behind a panel with the flight equipment, somebody had to go looking for it in order to disable it."

"Fingerprints?" I ask.

"Whoever the perpetrator is, they wore gloves and didn't leave behind a trace. The cameras in the hangar were similarly disabled, and once they finished, turned back on, so we at least have a timeframe during which this occurred; we're still checking several leads for more information."

"Do you think it was Hyde?" I ask.

"I suppose it's possible," Taylor concedes. "And with recent events, he is quickly climbing to the top of the suspect list. Unfortunately, the crash rendered him unconscious and in critical care so until his condition improves, we can't question him."

I nod broodingly. "And are we any closer to discovering the identity of the accomplice who pulled Hyde from the crash?"

"Regretfully, no, but again, we're following several leads."

"Okay," I say resignedly, running my hands down my face. "Ana and I will be leaving the hospital once her release paperwork is finished. I want all our vehicles and the apartment checked and double-checked for anything out of the ordinary. Ana and Caleb are top priority; their safety is paramount. Get on it."

Taylor nods. "Of course, sir."

He leaves me alone in the room and I take a minute to calm myself before I return to Ana. This is turning into a nightmare, one that I can't wake from and have no control over. It's one thing for somebody to come after me—it wouldn't be the first time I received death threats following some sort of business deal—but another thing entirely when my family is affected. If Taylor is right and _Charlie Tango_ was sabotaged, the accident that put Ana into the hospital is the second attack. Taylor has already said he and Sawyer are convinced Hyde thought I was the passenger in the SUV. And if he was working with an accomplice, that person is still roaming free; who's to say there won't be another attack in which Caleb is a passenger and he and Ana don't escape with comparably mild injuries like she did this time? It would be my fault and I know I'd never survive such a tragedy. I have to keep them safe; I only just got them in my life and I've not nearly had my fill yet.

But first things first; I need to get Ana home and settled, then I can start working on finding the fuckers hurting my family and make them pay.

* * *

By the time Christian returns from talking with Taylor, I've signed my release papers and a nice young male orderly has arrived with a wheelchair to leave the hospital in. The moment the orderly tries to take my arm to help me stand, Christian steps between us, clearly staking his claim on me. Under other circumstances, I might admonish him for practically shoving the young man away from me, but judging by the expression on his face, such actions would only start an argument and I really don't have the strength or energy.

"What's wrong?" I ask him quietly as he bends to settle me in the wheelchair.

He avoids my gaze, though I see his jaw tense. "Nothing," he answers curtly.

Suddenly, I'm willing to risk an argument with him. I know he's lying. I hold my tongue, though, knowing whatever is bothering him probably shouldn't be discussed in public. He pushes me through the hospital, to the elevator, and out to the SUV where Taylor is waiting for us. When I asked how Sawyer was following the crash, I was relieved his injuries were minor compared to mine and I made Christian promise he wouldn't fire him. The crash certainly wasn't his fault; neither of us saw the oncoming car.

Gently, Christian lifts me from the wheelchair and places me in the backseat, buckling the seatbelt for me. To my surprise, Taylor takes the wheelchair, folds it, and places it in very back. I have a feeling I'll be seeing that wheelchair often until my injuries heal. Christian climbs in the other side of the car and scoots to sit next to me, carefully wrapping me in his arms as much as the seatbelts with allow and buries his nose in my hair.

"I'll be so glad to have you home, Ana," he whispers as Taylor pulls into traffic. "With any luck, we'll be able to get through at least one drama-free day."

It's hard to believe Caleb and I have only been in Seattle for just over a week. There have been moments when it's seemed like much more time has passed with everything that has gone on. I sure as hell won't ever be able to say that life with Christian Grey is uneventful...

Just as I expected, the moment we're in the Escala parking garage, Taylor stops in front of the elevator and immediately jumps out to retrieve the wheelchair. "I can walk, you know," I grumble to Christian when he assists me into the chair. "My arm is broken; my legs are fine."

He ignores me and pushes me into the elevator. "Mrs. Jones setup the couch in the TV room with blankets and pillows so you don't get bored," he informs me. "If you'd prefer to rest in the bedroom, I can have the television setup in there instead."

"You don't have to do that," I mutter, resigning myself to my fate for the time being.

"It's no trouble, Anastasia," he says, sounding exasperated.

I shake my head, sighing to myself. He's got no problem rearranging his entire penthouse for my comfort, but when the time comes that I begin to demand answers about what's bothering him, he's not nearly so accommodating. Well, that's just too bad for him. Last year, I would have given him the benefit of the doubt, not wanting to start a fight with him, but things have changed. I'm a mother now and I refuse to let anything affect my son negatively, and that includes his grumpy father.

It seems Gail really has gone all out to make me comfortable upon my return. Christian helps me into a pair of pajamas, then gets me settled on the couch, carefully tucking a blanket around me. "Kate and Elliot are bringing Caleb later this evening. We wanted to give you the chance to relax a little first."

I nod. "That's fine. Thank you."

He smiles down at me, then looks regretful. "I have a little work to do," he says apologetically. "Once I'm done, I can come keep you company."

"Before you do that," I say, "are you going to tell me what was bothering you at the hospital? You were fine until Taylor wanted a word; did something happen?"

He rolls his eyes, mostly at himself I think. "Ana, I told you not to worry about it."

"Too late for that," I respond, not allowing myself to be intimidated by his dismissive, cold tone. "If something is going on, I have a right to know, especially if it's something that could affect my son. You can't keep things from me if you want us to work."

He's quiet for a few moments and I watch as his demeanor slowly changes from his usual in-control façade to wary and sad. With a sigh, he sits down beside me on the couch. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, taking my good hand in his. "Ana, I'm not used to answering to anybody; I handle things in my own way in my own time. My instinct is to not tell you anything that might cause you to worry or run because you think it's too much. I don't want to see you afraid."

"Christian, it scares me to know you're obviously so worried about something that you can't even talk to me about it," I admit. "Even if I can't help whatever the problem is, I'm always willing to listen."

Smiling softly, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to my lips. "I know you are, baby," he murmurs. "And that means the world to me." He takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "I want to tell you what's going on, and I will. But first, I need to make a few phone calls to confirm a few details. I'll be an hour at the most. Can you wait that long?"

I nod. "Of course."

After another too-brief kiss, Christian heads out of the room to his study and I lie back, switching on the TV in the hopes I can find something to distract me until he returns, though I already know I'll fail miserably.


	19. Chapter 19

One hour seems like a long time when you're eagerly awaiting something you know will be good. But when it's something you don't want to deal with, something you know that no matter how you lay it out, it will be upsetting, the time flies by. I have less than two minutes before Ana expects me back in the TV room ready with my explanation about what's going on in our lives. As much as I'd prefer to keep her mind untroubled until I sort this out, I know she meant it when she said keeping things from me would only cause us problems. The sincerity in her eyes when she said she wanted to listen to my problems was staggering; maybe this is my opportunity to prove to her how much I need her, not just in my bed, but in every aspect of my life. I only hope what I tell her isn't too much.

With a glance at my watch, I see I've got about ninety minutes before Kate and Elliot arrive with Caleb, and I want this resolved as much as possible before our son arrives. I quickly retrieve Ana's pain medication, a drink, and a snack so she doesn't take it on an empty stomach, and finally enter the TV room. As I set the tray on the table beside Ana, she turns off the reality show she was watching, and watches me silently.

"I thought you might be hungry," I explain, sitting beside her with a bowl of fruit and carefully shift her so she's leaning against me. Almost immediately, I feel myself begin to relax; Ana is in my arms and this is where we belong. Thankfully she's patiently allowing me to feed her while I sort out the things I have to say. Then I realize it doesn't matter how I say it; she's going to be concerned and probably annoyed once I get it all out anyway...

"Taylor and the rest of my security team has been investigating your car accident—Seattle PD have ruled it as a hit and run since the other driver disappeared after hitting the SUV."

"Disappeared?" she asks sharply, hissing in pain when she tries to crane her neck around to look at me.

Pressing my lips together, I refrain from lecturing her about hurting herself. She wouldn't listen anyway... "Yes. The current theory is that the other driver was pulled from the wreckage and taken elsewhere before anyone could even see what happened. That person, the one who hit you, is currently in a Tacoma hospital receiving treatment for a number of injuries."

"Is he okay?" she gasps.

I blink at her. She could have so easily lost her life in that accident, yet her concern is for the bastard who hit her. Knowing her as I do, that probably won't change much after telling her the worst part of it. "For now," I say grimly in answer to her question. I'm still tempted to drive down there and pay the fucker a visit. "Ana, the thing about this whole accident is that it wasn't an accident. The driver of the other car hit the SUV with the intention of harming the person or persons inside it."

Her brow furrows as though she never would have imagined such a thing to be a possibility. "Why would anybody do that?" she asks cluelessly.

I hate having to be the one to break her innocence by bringing her into the reality of a world that is cutthroat and cruel. "Because they believed I was the passenger," I say quietly. "You weren't the intended target, Ana; I was."

Her entire body tenses as my words sink in to her mind. "Someone tried to kill you?" she whispers in horror.

I'm suddenly second guessing my decision to tell her what Taylor found out regarding _Charlie Tango_. "It wouldn't be the first time," I admit quietly. "But yes, that's the belief right now."

"Who would do that?" she whispers, looking at me with wide eyes.

I sigh deeply. "Well, in this particular instance... Do you remember Jack Hyde?" Since she only me the guy once during her interview at SIP, there's every possibility she won't remember him."

Her brow furrows as she thinks. "Jack Hyde? From SIP?" She sounds uncertain.

"Yes, that's him," I answer evenly as I once again think of how close Ana was to working with that bastard. "We've discovered he is the other driver."

She stares at me, confused. "Jack Hyde? The guy who would have been my boss at SIP was the driver who intentionally hit the SUV? How does that make any sense, Christian? He'd have no reason to want to hurt you..."

_Oh, Ana... so naïve sometimes..._ "A few months ago, Hyde was fired from SIP for sexual harassment of his PA. The girl stepped forward with proof of her claims and I'll spare you the details, but she wasn't his first victim. There had been a number of rumors surrounding his alarming tendency to go through PAs and a bit of digging found a collection of videos he's taken through the years involving women and the things he's done to them."

The disgust on her face is obvious and a shiver runs through her body. "That doesn't explain why he'd want to hurt you," she says quietly.

"I was the one who had him fired," I inform her.

Her brow furrows again as she tries to work through this. "Maybe it's the painkillers," she begins slowly, "but I'm not following, Christian. How could you possibly have him fired unless you—" Her body tenses as she reaches her conclusion. Tell me you didn't..."

"Didn't want?" I ask cautiously.

"SIP. It's yours, isn't it?" I swallow hard, nodding. She takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly as though she's trying to drudge up her patience. "When?"

"Does it matter?" I ask evasively.

The look she shoots me is enough answer. I sigh. "Since not long after you were hired there," I admit. "I would have told you before, but you left Seattle before your first day."

"And you didn't sell it?"

"Why would I?" I ask back. "Aside from it being a good investment since the place was stagnant—I turned it around and its profits haven't been this high in years—it reminded me of you. I bought it because I needed a way to ensure you were safe even at work. When this mess with Jack Hyde popped up, for the first and only time since you left, I was glad you weren't there, because all I could think about was that you so easily could have been one of those women on those videos. And that would have destroyed me, particularly the knowledge that someone hurt you in such a horrible way. I would have fucking killed that bastard, Ana."

I really wish I didn't have to spell it out like this for her, forcing her to imagine all sorts of horrible that might have happened to her and all those women who fell victim to Hyde's attacks. But the bottom line is that she has to understand it to some level; she has to understand why I'm so desperate to keep her safe at all times and why I'm so insistent that she and Caleb have a security detail.

"So basically, Jack Hyde was so pissed off at you for firing him that he's trying to kill you," she says quietly.

Swallowing hard, I nod. "Basically, yes."

She's quiet for a few minutes as she thinks all this over. "What happened to _Charlie Tango_?" she asks.

Fuck. My girl is clever and sometimes she's too clever for her own good. "What do you mean?" I ask, procrastinating.

The expression she shoots at me is full of exasperation. "Are you really telling me that with all your needs to be in control over absolutely every aspect in your life, but that doesn't extend to the helicopter you fly as often as possible, that you've probably flown your family in as well as me? I know you better than that, Christian."

Rolling my eyes, I know I'm not getting out of this one. "We're still working out the details, but Taylor is convinced _Charlie Tango_ was sabotaged," I answer resignedly. "And if that is the case, Hyde is our number one suspect in that as well. _Charlie Tango_ is top of the line as far as safety goes; she's built in a way that if one engine catches fire, the other cuts itself off from whatever internal malfunction might have occurred. It should have transferred all power to the secondary engine long enough to allow me a safe landing. Instead, both engines were damaged and ignited one after the other."

She tries to sit up, but winces in pain, refusing when I try to get her to lie back down again, so I help her into an upright position so she can look at me. "And what if he tries again?" she whispers, her eyes wide and filling with tears.

"He's in the hospital, Ana," I assure her. "And his injuries are severe. Assuming he does recover, he's under police surveillance and will be transferred to jail."

"But you said he might be working with an accomplice," she presses on. "What if the accomplice tries?"

"If that happens, I will do absolutely everything in my power to ensure your safety and Caleb's."

She shakes her head impatiently. "What about you?" she asks emphatically. I frown in confusion at her question. "Christian, you're not the only one in this relationship who feels possessive and over protective. As worried as you are about our safety, I feel the exact same way about you; if something happened to you, it would destroy me."

I stare at her in wonder for a moment as I realize she feels for me exactly what I feel for her. It shouldn't be a revelation to me, since she's been trying to convince me for a year that she loves me and while I thought I was beginning to understand the depth of her feelings for me, I now realize I wasn't even close. I try to form words to tell her what she means to me, but I can't seem to find the right ones, so I do what any man should do at a moment like this: I lean in to kiss her deeply, trying to silently convey every thought and feeling I've ever had for her.

"What was that for?" she asks breathlessly when we part.

Smiling, I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "For being you," I answer. "An amazing, caring, loving woman who I don't deserve."

It's her turn to be speechless which I want to reward with another kiss, until I hear Elliot's booming voice in the foyer. I roll my eyes. "Interrupted again," I grumble. This is getting old...

Ana giggles and I see her eyelids getting heavy—a side effect of her pain medication. "Relax for a bit, baby," I instruct her. "I'll bring Caleb in once I get rid of Elliot and Kate..."

The moment her head touches the pillow, she's fast asleep. Could she possibly get any more adorable than she is right now? I seriously doubt it...

* * *

Thankfully, Kate and Elliot don't insist on staying long after dropping Caleb off—given the looks the two of them were exchanging in the brief time they were here, they've got their own plans for the evening that don't involve babysitting. Once they're gone, my son and I go about arranging dinner for the three of us which consists of calling Taylor to pick up takeout for Ana and me, and getting Caleb a bottle.

"See, Caleb? I can do this whole domestication thing," I say proudly, bouncing him slightly with one arm while I carry the tray arranged with food from my favorite Italian bistro with my free hand. And there's a sentence I never thought would come out of my mouth. I've seen friends and acquaintances settle into family life and I never really understood it. For the most part, they've seemed happy, but their priorities changed when children were born—people who have never had a sick day in their lives suddenly need time off work because of a sick kid. Families interfered with their professional lives and the quality of their work declined because they were so eager to get home to their family.

I thought it was all well and good for those people, but my number one focus for a little over a decade now has been my company—expanding it, making it the success it is now; having a family would be a hindrance on that. That's what I thought, anyway; now, having Ana and Caleb here with me, I'm quickly beginning to understand how those people felt—nothing is more important than my family. And we are a family despite the fact that Ana and I aren't married—that's a minor detail and will be rectified at our earliest convenience. I lost track of how many times I was so very close to asking her to marry me since the car accident. We were interrupted every time and as much as I enjoy being occasionally spontaneous, I realize this is something that should be carefully thought about and planned. Ana deserves my absolute best attempt at hearts and flowers, though I'm still uncertain how successful I could be in that department.

Aside from that, I'm finding it incredibly easy to make this transformation even when I never thought it would be something I wanted or needed. Naturally, my instinct is to care for them in every way possible and protect them from anything that has even the slightest potential to hurt them. This is why I'm so shaken up over this Hyde bullshit. It threatens the stability, happiness, and safety of the two people who mean the absolute world to me. I will stop at nothing to keep them safe.

Ana is just waking up when we arrive in the TV room. For half a second, she looks confused, even a little scared until she looks around and finds us; a smile erases all her previous emotions, leaving no trace of anything but pure happiness. I tuck this incident away for later discussion. I haven't forgotten the nightmare she had in the hospital, nor the words she spoke. _"Why... said I was enough for you... our son... please don't..." _And unless I'm very much mistaken, which I truly hope I am in this case, she was also muttering about a submissive and Mrs. Robinson. I can't even begin to imagine what was going on in that nightmare, but I need to address it with her; I can't leave her to wonder if her nightmare was right, that she's not enough for me as Elena alluded to on my birthday.

"There's my boys," she says quietly, wincing as she pushes herself up.

I frown, knowing her ribs will never heal if she keeps trying to do things on her own. Rather than chastising her, I smile at the words she's just spoken. _My boys._ Yes, we are hers. Undoubtedly and always. "We brought dinner," I inform her, setting the food tray on the coffee table and handing Caleb and his bottle to her. "Hungry?"

"Yes, actually," she confirms, managing to cradle Caleb with her broken arm in a way that doesn't hurt her so she can feed him. "It smells delicious."

I wink at her, cutting a piece of chicken with a fork and feeding it to her. "I could get used to this," I murmur as she takes the fork between her lips and slowly pulls away, all the while looking at me through her hair with big blue eyes. It takes all my willpower to not react—all I want is to press her against the couch and bury myself inside her, but I have to remind myself she's injured and I don't want to do anything to hurt her more than she's already hurting. "So as much as I'd rather not, I'll have to go into the office tomorrow."

"Christian, it's fine," she assures me as Caleb finishes his feeding. I find myself suddenly very curious about breast milk, and jealous of my son's access to Ana's breasts, but manage to shake the thoughts for now. "It's not like I'll be alone..."

Choosing to ignore the pointed dig at my security and household staff standards, I begin my own dinner. "Well, if you need me, I'm only ever a phone call away," I say, hoping she understands that I will come running should the situation require it. "My mother has promised to come check on you after lunch and Mia offered to keep you company if you get bored." Even I know Ana won't have enough energy to deal with my sister. "I'll do my very best to not work late, but as we've got a few pretty lucrative deals on the table..."

"Christian, it's fine," she repeats, placing her finger against my lip to stop me from going on. I smile and kiss her finger, lowering it to my lap. "You probably need to make up for leaving New York earlier than scheduled."

Her concern is adorable. "Ros took care of it," I inform her. "And it all went to plan, in case you were curious." Despite my sudden disappearance, the owners of the company I was looking to acquire manufacturing the solar-powered cell phones agreed to the sale. According to Ros, there were a few minutes when she thought we might have lost the deal because they believed I didn't seem to believe it important to take care of the finalizations myself, so she "let slip" the nature of my abrupt departure and as devoted family men themselves, they understood and immediately signed on the dotted line. Normally it would piss me off to no end that someone was talking about and using my private life for business purposes. I know Ros meant well and if she would still have managed to lose the deal, she'd be on the unemployment line by now. As it is, she did what she had to do and naturally, I respect that; any other time, I know she'd keep my private business to herself and she'll never take advantage. I can't say the same for all the people who work for me, but I've come to know exactly who I can trust in my life and Ros is one of them.

"Anyway, we should probably get some sleep," I announce after a while of mindlessly watching TV with Ana and our son. "I was hoping you'd come to bed with me, but if you're more comfortable here..."

She shakes her head. "I want to be with you," she says in a sweet, shy voice that I can't help grinning at.

"And I you, Anastasia," I reply, pressing a kiss to her lips. "I'll get Caleb settled and come back to help you." She opens her mouth to object, probably to tell me she's perfectly capable of walking to bed on her own, but I ignore her for the moment, already looking forward to curling up beside her again.

* * *

Initially, I'm unaware of what it is that wakes me. A glance at the alarm clock makes me groan out loud. Since my hospitalization, my sleep schedule is all out of whack. It's going on two in the morning and I'm wide awake. And alone, judging by the lack of Christian wrapped around me. As I begin to take in my surroundings, I hear a soft voice to my left and I turn slightly, finding the baby monitor that not only allows sound, but shows a clear video of the baby's room. I carefully scoot over to Christian's side of the bed when I realize I'm seeing him in the rocking chair with Caleb once again curled on his naked chest, a position they both seem to love. I reach out to turn up the volume so I can hear what Christian is saying.

"...thought I'd want a life like this," he murmurs into Caleb's hair. "I've always been too afraid of doing anything that might damage any child I fathered. I thought my fu—" He stops suddenly, frowning, and I giggle at his attempt at censorship. "Rather, my unfortunate beginning might somehow be passed down I'd only be putting a child through all the hell and mental anguish I felt growing up. I tried so hard to be normal, to give my parents a son they could be proud of the way they were proud of Elliot. But all I seemed to do was hurt and disappoint them time and time again. I know they're proud of me and of what I've achieved in my professional life, but I want so badly to right all the wrongs I've done them." He pauses for a moment, looking down at his sleeping son and smiles. "I think you're helping with that—you and your mother. My family is starting to see a side of me none of us ever dreamed could exist.

"I'm ashamed of it, but at first I thought a baby would only cause me to spiral out of control—I've already worked out that there are so many unknown factors in being a parent and that scares the hell out of me. I reacted atrociously when I learned about you because I was so convinced, even in those few, brief minutes, that I would fail miserably and lose Ana for good. And then I held you for the first time and everything seemed..." He searches the room for the right word. "Complete. Like a puzzle piece has been found even though I had no idea it was missing.

"I'm still afraid—maybe I always will be. And I know I'll make mistakes with both you and your mother, but I promise you, Caleb, I will always be here to make it right again. I don't want you to doubt that you're worthy of my love. I'll always be there to help you and guide and protect you. I'm still trying to figure out this whole love thing—it's frightening how deeply I feel for you and your mother—but I promise I'll get there one day. I'll never let either of you go, because I wouldn't survive losing you. And I know it won't be easy, but we'll find a way. I just hope you can be patient with me until I figure it all out."

Tears are streaming unchecked down my cheeks from his words. Everything he's said are things I know he'd never be able to admit to me out loud; he's still overly accustomed to keeping his thoughts and feeling bottled up. As he whispers an I love you to Caleb, kissing his head and placing the baby back in his crib, I think of how lucky I am. This entire situation could have played out so differently—Christian could have easily hated me for not telling me about his son; he could have dragged me to court to get full custody of Caleb; he could have written us both of altogether. Instead, despite his fears and hesitancy, he's embracing this new life and thriving. There is still so much for us to work through, but I'm now fully confident we will get there in the end.


	20. Chapter 20

Despite my hesitancy to leave Ana on her own while she recovers, I'm pleased at how well she's progressing. The first couple days were the worst for her, I think—she's so accustomed to taking care of herself and Caleb on her own that she's had trouble accepting help. Gail reported that Ana was getting up for a number of reasons and she didn't hesitate to send my stubborn, self-sufficient girl right back to bed. This morning, Ana was finally able to get up, dress, and shuffle to the kitchen with only minimal wincing and she refused to let me order her back to bed rest. I can't really blame her for being eager to stretch her legs a bit; I'd be going crazy in her position, but I still had to remind her to take it easy while I'm at work.

As for me, much as I'd like to check in on her every hour on the hour, I'm finding that difficult at the moment. Between my normal mergers and acquisitions, I'm dealing with the aftermath of that fucker Jack Hyde. Unfortunately, he managed to survive despite serious injuries, which means he'll be transferred to maximum security facility where he'll await trial at some point in the future. The only very slight bright spot is that Taylor has reported that Hyde has regained consciousness so now we can attempt to get answers from him regarding his accomplice. None of us are under any delusion that he'll actually, willingly talk, but that won't stop us trying.

This thing with Hyde is getting more complicated than I thought possible. Apparently it really is a small world—Welch managed to dig up a connection between Hyde and me that goes back much further than SIP. Both of us were born in Detroit and ended up as wards of the state. We even had the same foster family for the brief time it took for my adoption by the Greys to be finalized. There's even a picture and whenever I look at it and find the sad, scared, lonely little boy, I imagine Caleb growing up to look exactly like him. Of course, I'll never allow my son to feel those emotions; I'm righting all the wrongs done to me by the crack whore by giving Caleb exactly the opposite of what she gave me when I was small. And I'm actually finding that works better than my old methods for coping with my troubled past.

How's that for a revelation?

It hasn't been all stress; I've got a couple things in the works that I can't wait to see come to fruition in the near future. The first, of course, is a plan to propose marriage to Anastasia. I want it to be absolutely perfect for her, an experience she will never forget, and I've got a few ideas, but I'm finding myself becoming impatient to make her mine permanently and legally. I would fucking love to surprise her with a proposal, then surprise her further with the news that all the arrangements are in place for us to get married immediately. But even I know a woman should have the opportunity to plan her dream wedding. I want her to have anything she wants for our wedding. I think, however, I'll have to insist it happens sooner rather than later; now that I have her back in my life, I don't want to waste another minute of either of us being even the slightest bit uncertain about where our relationship stands. I want the world to know without a doubt that she is mine. I want to hear people call her Mrs. Grey.

And speaking of name changes, I've spent the last couple weeks biting my tongue about Caleb's surname. I understand why Ana gave him her name—she didn't want to risk me discovering her secret—but now that they're with me again, it's only natural that my son has my name. I've already started the ball running on getting his name changed from Steele to Grey and as much as I want to push the paperwork through and put a rush on it, I'm not doing anything until I speak to Ana about it. There's no doubt in my mind that she will agree to the change, but for once, I think it will be better to at least run it by her first.

So much about my life has changed in such a short time and while there are moments when I welcome each and every one of them, there are others when I feel overwhelmed and confused. I wonder about whether I'm deserving of all the good I've been given and I fear that at some point Ana will come to her senses about me and take off running. Now that Ana is recovering and I'm able to begin processing all of it, I'm finding it necessary to seek a second glance. I have a session with Flynn at lunchtime tomorrow; merely making that appointment relaxed me significantly and I now wonder if there will ever come a day when I'll be recovered enough that I won't need therapy anymore. I seriously doubt it; my fucked up mind still has dozens of layers to it and I'll be dealing with it for the rest of my life. Slowly, however, Ana and Caleb are helping me sort through it and for the first time in my life, I can finally see a light at the end of the tunnel. And it's fucking amazing.

* * *

I'm starting to get cabin fever being locked up in Escala. Every day I get up and feel a little better, and tell myself I'm going to get out for a bit, maybe have lunch with Kate or something, but aside from knowing Christian would throw a fit, I'd rather not head out into public until the bruises on my body fade. I've got one in particular on my cheek that has turned neon yellow and I know it'll look as though I've been beaten; it's just easier to not have to deal with whispers behind my back. The media has picked up on the fact that Christian Grey has a son with a girl he knew only briefly soon after the car accident. Christian isn't pleased about it and neither am I, but the way I see it, at some point they're going to get bored with trying to get a glimpse at us and move on to the next big thing, so we can either stay here and hide away until it passes, or we can face it and go about our lives. Maybe if we just put out a family photo with Caleb, the interest will die down. Christian wouldn't ever agree to that, though; he's always been a very private man, protecting his own secrets. Now he's a borderline recluse as he protects the privacy of Caleb and me. He won't want us exposed to anything that might harm us, whether it is a clear and present danger or cruel rumors that will undoubtedly come about from the press.

Aside from that aspect of things, I can't deny I'm a little nervous about setting foot outside without Christian. I've spent a lot of time this week thinking about what he told me regarding the accident—or the _not-_accident, according to Christian. I'm still having trouble processing the idea that my former almost-employer would care enough to want to harm us, even if Christian had him fired. And that's another thing I need to deal with—Christian purchasing a company solely because I was going to work there. Vaguely, I wonder if there's such a thing as Stalkers Anonymous. Even though Jack Hyde is in police custody, Christian and his security team believe Jack was working with an accomplice and if that's the case, there is somebody else out there who might want to hurt us. I worry almost every second that Christian is at work that he might not come home at the end of the day, not that I'd admit my fears to him; he'd take the opportunity to really lock us up in his penthouse and not let us out even with security. I ought to be accustomed to his overprotective nature by now, but I don't want to give him reason to increase his level of paranoia.

Since I've been stuck here, Gail and I have been spending a lot of time together. At first it was mostly her keeping Caleb occupied while I was unable. It then turned into me practically forcing her to have lunch with me the other day rather than going off to clean some part of the apartment. Now she's more than happy to keep us company. She absolutely adores Caleb and he seems to like her, too, so it's good all around for all of us. After taking my pain medication yesterday following lunch, I heard myself asking her if she had children of her own, then immediately wanted to kick myself at the look of sadness crossing her expression. She wanted children of her own, she told me, assuring me she wasn't offended or uncomfortable with my question, but she was never able to conceive. When her husband passed away a decade or so ago, she resigned herself to a childless life. She went on to say working for Christian went a long way in helping her heal. Christian needed her, whether he'd ever admit it or not, and she's been more than happy to take care of him and Taylor, who she has apparently been in a relationship with now for a few years. I tried to hide my surprise at this news, but the amusement in Gail's eyes told me I didn't pull it off.

It's not until Thursday that an opportunity to get out arises. While Gail and Caleb play on the floor, I hear my cell phone ringing in the kitchen and try to quickly reach it. My ribs are still sore, but movement is becoming much easier. I manage to hit the answer key on my phone before the call is sent to voicemail.

"Hello?" I say quickly, hoping the caller hasn't hung up. Only a few people call me—my parents, Kate, Christian and his family—so I didn't bother with checking the caller ID.

"Ana? Hey, it's Joe."

My eyes widen and I smile. "Well, hello, stranger. How are you?"

"I'm good," he says happily. "How's Seattle?"

I think through my brief time here so far and realize an explanation would take far too long. "It's been... eventful," I answer honestly. "In a good way, mostly."

"Good," he says, though I think I hear a slight tinge of disappointment in his voice. "Listen, I'm going to be in town this weekend for playoffs and I thought maybe we could get together for coffee or dinner, or something."

"Oh," I say, surprised. My immediate reaction is to say yes, because honestly, I have missed Joe. I didn't have many friends in Savannah, and he was the only one I confided in about my brief time in Seattle. Of course, I never told him about Christian's sexual predilections; I couldn't betray him in that way. But Joe knew the breakup was bad and quickly worked out that I'd be nursing a broken heart for quite a while. He helped me through a brief period post-partum depression when I couldn't admit to anybody how much trouble I was having. I got it in my head that I was already failing as a new mother and that if my friends or family found out, they would try to take Caleb from me. Joe got me through it by just spending time with us. He helped me so much and I'll always consider him a friend.

The problem I have is the knowledge that Christian can't stand Joe, because he assumes that if Joe and I spend time together, Joe will try something. I know it's not a matter of lack of trust for me; Christian just doesn't trust other men around me. It's José all over again—Christian freaked out because I had a couple drinks with José before Kate and I moved to Seattle after the incident at the bar that led to me spending my first night with Christian. Joe hasn't ever made a move like the one José did that night, but that won't stop my paranoid, control-freak from assuming the worst.

Thinking quickly, I come up with a plan that might placate Christian enough that he won't raise too much of a fuss about me seeing Joe. After arranging a time and place for dinner tomorrow with Joe, we hang up and I make a call of my own. Naturally Kate jumps at the chance to see Joe again—if she and Elliot weren't together, she would undoubtedly be trying her hand with Joe, assuming of course I had no interest in him. And I haven't; not really. It is amusing to watch her flirt with him, though.

Now I just have to figure out a way to present this plan to Christian so he doesn't go completely thermonuclear...

* * *

"No."

I stare at Christian as he continues on with his dinner as though he hasn't just shot down my plan before I could get it completely out of my mouth. "What?" I ask.

He glances sidelong at me as he twirls pasta around his fork. "I said no," he repeats.

"Why?"

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, he drops his fork to the plate. "Why do you think, Ana?" he asks as he turns to face me. "I'm not going to risk letting you out there where you could be hurt again or that dick Battaglia can take advantage of you."

I ignore the first half of that statement for the moment. "Take advantage of me?" I ask coolly. "What, you don't think I can take care of myself?" The doubt in his eyes is enough of an answer. "Why do you always assume I can't fight off unwanted attention? How many times do I have to tell you Joe is a friend—nothing more?" I pause for half a second, realizing how much I sound like Christian defending his friendship with Mrs. Robinson. That puts a bad taste in my mouth... But then again, Joe and I haven't so much as kissed let alone done the things Christian did with that woman. "I'm stronger than I look, Christian, and it's not like we're going to be all alone with nobody to intervene if he tries something—_which he won't_," I emphasize. "And as for you not letting me... Who do you think you are telling me what I can and can't do?"

"I'm the man who is responsible for your safety. The man who would give his own life for you in a second if it meant you would be safe and happy. I'm also the father to your son and I'm not about to let something else happen to you that keeps you from caring for him. I already had to worry about what would have happened if you had been hurt worse in that fucking car accident and I was left as the only one to take care of Caleb—I couldn't have done it on my own, Ana, and the thought of that becoming a reality fucking terrifies me.

"That's who I think I am, Anastasia. The man who needs you more than either of us can possibly imagine. There is still a possibility that Hyde's accomplice is out there somewhere biding their time until the right moment. I have no intention of putting you at risk."

A small part of me wants to launch myself at him for his sweet, honest words, but I refrain. He needs to learn to let go sometime, and now is a good a time as any. "I wouldn't be alone," I go on stubbornly. "Kate is joining us and if you're really worried about safety, we'll bring Sawyer along. Or, even better than that, you can join us. Spend some time with Joe, Christian; I think you two would get along great."

"Right, because the one thing we have in common is wanting to get into your panties," he mutters sardonically. "Ana, I have no interest in getting to know that dick. None. I'd much rather be here with you and our son. You're all I need and we should be all you need."

I'm shaking my head slowly at his words, unable to keep the hurt out of my expression and voice. "So you have no interest in any other aspect of my life unless it involves you?" I ask him quietly. "Like my life only began the second you stepped into it?"

He impassively stares right back at me. "My life only began when you stepped into it," he says quietly. "And yes, I thought it was the same for you."

The sincerity in his eyes causes my heart to skip a beat. "It is the same," I agree in a whisper. "But there is still a time before you that I don't want to let go. I have friends—some really good friends—and I can't just cut them out of my life."

"Why not?" he asks, cocking his head to the side as though he truly doesn't understand the statement. "I've cut Elena from my life—she was my friend. If I'm making sacrifices, why shouldn't you?"

It's so cut and dry in his mind, like a child would think about the world. And on some level, yes, he's right; he's ended a friendship, even if that friendship began with six years of him being abused. It was the only one he believed he had. I still maintain my belief that Mrs. Robinson is toxic for him and in all honesty, he made the choice to cut her out of his life on his birthday when he finally saw her for what she is.

_That's not entirely true, though. You told him to choose either her or you and Caleb. He made his choice based on his need of you and fear of losing you again. So what concessions will you be making? _

Before I can form an answer, Christian's cell phone rings. I expect him to send the call to voicemail so we can finish our discussion, but he doesn't. "I have to take this," he says quietly. "Sorry."

With that, he leaves me sitting at the bar, still completely uncertain as to where we stand.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Christian."

I enter John Flynn's office and sit in my normal spot without saying a word. Tempted as I was to cancel this appointment, I knew it would only make things worse than they already are. I kept this appointment because I need to talk things through with somebody who understands me, who can give me a new angle on my problems.

John is watching me closely from his armchair. It's not normal for me to remain silent for this long during our sessions and it's obviously worrying him. "Is something the matter, Christian?" he asks quietly. When I don't respond immediately, he sets aside his pen and notepad, and leans towards me, resting his elbows on his knees. "Shall we talk it out?"

It's a routine we went through often over the last year when I was unable to vocalize some of the things I felt. John would very gently lead me through it all, helping me sort it out so I could understand it all better. It took six months for him to get me to a point that I could really start working on getting my life together after losing Ana. I give him a brief nod.

"Shall we begin with your son?"

I can't help the huge smile that spreads across my face at hearing someone refer to Caleb as my son. Every concern, every moment of uncertainty is worth it just to hear those words. "He's amazing," I say softly. "Really, truly amazing, John. I didn't know it could be like this."

"You didn't know what could be like this?" he probes, though I know he's already aware of the answer; we both need to hear me say it out loud.

"Being a father," I answer. "Knowing I'm responsible for his safety and growth and happiness, and wanting nothing more than to do whatever it takes to ensure he grows up feeling loved and wanted."

"That's all any parent wants, Christian," John says with a smile. "Children... They have a way of making you think about things in a different way that you never would have considered before them. It's more than just another mouth to feed or someone to protect; children change you whether you want them to or not. They don't care about money or success or fancy lives. They come into the world programmed to love."

"Do they?" I ask in surprise. "I didn't."

John's eyes widen in surprise. "Why do you say that?" he asks. "Aside from the fact that you can't possibly remember how you felt the day you were born, it's a fact—babies are born love those who care for them. In your case, that was your birthmother." He holds up a hand to stop me from restarting an old argument that still hasn't been settled. "You were born to love. As you grew, outside factors came into play and rather than being loved and protected as you should have been, your mother was unable to provide that life for you. You were an innocent child who was cruelly abused for a long time so when you were adopted by a loving family you were unable to understand, receive, and reciprocate those feelings. Your programming was changed due to the environment in which you lived before you met the Greys. You grew up believing you were unworthy of love or a good life."

"Haven't we had this conversation?" I ask impatiently, really not wanting to go back to all that shit.

"Indeed we have," he agrees easily. "My point, Christian, is that until you reunited with Anastasia and met Caleb, you were convinced that love doesn't really exist—at least not for you. What you failed to understand is that there are people who love you unconditionally, whether you reciprocate or not."

"I do reciprocate, though," I argue. "I love Anastasia and I love Caleb. Everything I do is for them, and yet Ana can't see it."

"What do you mean?"

I shake my head in frustration, recalling our discussion last night about her having dinner what that fucker Joe from Savannah. After I retreated to my study to do some work rather than sticking around and fighting with her, that's where I spent the rest of my evening. She didn't come looking for me when it was time for Caleb's bedtime. She didn't come looking for me when she was getting ready for bed. And I made no effort to do either. "I just feel like Ana isn't as dedicated to me as I am to her. She doesn't get that I need her to be safe at all times, because I've lost her once before and almost did again after that fucking car accident, and I can't go through it again."

"Why do you say she isn't as dedicated to you?" John asks.

Grudgingly, I explain about Joe Battaglia and with every word, John begins to understand exactly where I'm going with this. For a moment, I think he might actually agree that I'm right in wanting to keep Ana from that asshole. I should know better by now...

"Well, I have to say I think there is a possibility you overreacted just a little Christian. Ana has told you before she and this Joe are only friends and if you believe her, all you're doing at this point is making her feel like you don't trust her."

"So you'd let Rhian have dinner with some asshole that you know for a fact would take advantage of the first opportunity to move in on her?" I challenge.

John actually smirks. "Actually, yes," he admits. "Because I trust Rhian to make the right decisions for her and our family. I know she loves me and our children, and she'd never put us at risk for anyone or anything. Just like Ana trusts that you won't put her or Caleb at risk intentionally. As much as you'd like to control outside interference, Christian, it's just not possible. You have to let your family live their lives. Let me ask you this, and think hard before you answer: Do you trust Anastasia?"

"Yes," I say without hesitance, because it's true. I trust her with my life and I know she would never intentionally hurt me, just as I'd never intentionally hurt her. Not anymore at least; last year was a different story...

John doesn't seem surprised at the quickness of my answer. "So what is the real problem here?"

I swallow hard, hating what I'm about to say, but knowing John won't rest until I get it out. "I'm afraid that if she spends time with this guy—this attractive, uncomplicated guy without a dark past—she'll realize all the pain she's gone through with me isn't necessary and that she and Caleb can be happy without me. And she'll leave me and take my son, and I'll be nothing."

* * *

Kate, Elliot, Caleb, and I are sitting at a table in a restaurant as we wait on Joe's arrival. I haven't spoken to Christian since last night at dinner. I'm not even sure he came to bed. And while I know I should have gone to him and talked this through, I know this is something he'll never budge on. Possessiveness is part of his DNA and much like a child who hasn't learned to share his toys, Christian won't risk someone else trying to move in on what is his. Kate figured out what's going on with one glance at me when I walked into the restaurant. She sent Elliot to get us some drinks at the bar and used the time for a brief, but thorough interrogation and she didn't hesitate to make her feelings on the subject known. Christian, according to her, can't keep me locked up in his penthouse for the rest of my life. I need my own identity and that includes having friends he may or may not like. On some level, I know she's right, but I still feel guilty for going against Christian's desires.

Then again, he hasn't made contact with me either, so he doesn't get much of a say right now.

"THD is looking good," Kate practically purrs as I jiggle a set of keys in front of Caleb.

Rolling my eyes at her nickname for Joe, I look up and find the man himself approaching us with a smile. I stand, giving him a brief hug that he ends with a kiss on my cheek, and I can't help looking around him to where Sawyer is sitting in the shadows watching everything. I'm sure he'll be reporting to Christian immediately. Joe greets Kate as well before taking a seat beside Caleb, playing with his little fist.

"No fucking way!"

Kate and I look up to find Elliot returning to the table with a tray of drinks, a huge grin on his face as he looks at Joe. The two of us exchange a confused glance and shrug when Joe matches the grin and stands. Elliot sets the tray down and the two men greet each other like old friends.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Joe asks when they sit down again.

Elliot jerks his head to Kate. "My wife dragged me along," he explains. "You?"

"Playoffs this weekend," Joe answers.

"Okay, so is someone going to let us in on whatever is going on?" Kate asks.

Elliot turns to her. "Joe's older brother was my roommate in college. He used to fly out every couple months and we'd all go out to party and whatnot.

"Ah, the whatnot," Joe says wistfully, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. "Good times, man."

"Small world much?" Kate whispers to me as Elliot and Joe begin to relive old memories.

Though I was pretty certain Joe wanted to have dinner to catch up with me, Kate and I are treated to college stories, some of which Elliot will probably get a lot of shit for once his wife gets him home tonight. Joe even invites all of us to watch his team play this weekend.

I've been checking my phone for most of the evening, hoping Christian might send me a message of some sort, but it remains quiet. He probably got word that Caleb and I went out, and now he's just waiting for our return so he can lay down the law.

"Ana, I have to ask," Joe begins after we place our dinner orders. "What the hell happened to you?"

I grin wryly. "Long story short, it was a car accident," I answer. "I'm fine, really. These," I gesture at the bruises on my face, "don't even hurt and my arm is healing perfectly."

He frowns at my explanation, but doesn't push the subject as Elliot engages him in conversation again.

I feel him before I see him, as is always the case, and I look up, immediately locating Christian just entering the door of the restaurant. We stare at each other for a long time and it's not until he takes a step into a light that I see the range of emotions cross his expression. Everything from anger to love to fear and regret. A moment later, his impassive mask is fully in place again and he begins to approach us. I brace myself.

This will be interesting...


	21. Chapter 21

Following my session with Flynn, I intended to head back to Escala and wait for Ana to come home since I know that despite last night, she's chosen to go out to meet Joe Battaglia. On the way, though, I decided I need to see her, to make sure she's okay and to apologize for last night. Sawyer is with her, so that's something, and he has been sending photos taken at the restaurant. The only one that really made me want to beat the shit out of Joe was the one taken upon his arrival when he hugged and kissed Ana on the cheek. I only relax when I find out that not only is Ana out with Kate, but Elliot is with them as well. Despite all the shit he's given me about finally falling in love and turning out to not be gay, I know he'd never allow anything to happen to Ana, including some asshole minor league baseball player putting the moves on her.

Taylor drops me off at the restaurant and I slip inside, leaning against a wall to stay out of sight for the moment. I find Ana and Caleb immediately. She's laughing at something Kate has said and I smile in spite of myself. She is so fucking beautiful when she laughs; I really need to make it a point to see that side of her as often as possible. Battaglia sits across from her and to my slight bemusement, he seems more interested in talking to my brother than Anastasia. From the looks of things, Elliot has already met Battaglia, though I can't imagine how. Vaguely, I wonder if I was wrong thinking Elliot was unaware that I had a son. Perhaps he joined Kate when she visited Ana in Savannah, met Battaglia, saw Caleb, and just didn't seem to think it prudent to inform me.

But no. Whatever faults my brother possesses, he'd never keep something like that from me.

I watch as Ana frowns slightly, lifting her gaze from her table mates, and locates me as though she has a sixth sense that alerts her of my presence. She looks nervous; undoubtedly a result of knowing how I would react to know she's gone against my wishes. But I'm not here to confront her or continue our argument. I make my way to the table and Kate spots me next—it looks as though she's readying herself to defend her best friend from my short temper. I ignore that for a moment, just like I ignore Elliot and Joe as I bend down to kiss Ana in greeting, then do the same to Caleb.

"Hi," I say quietly, grabbing a vacant chair from the next table and placing it between Ana and our son, resting my arm on the back of her chair.

"Hi," she repeats, looking confused. "I thought you were working late."

I shrug. "I decided there are more important matters to attend to," I say honestly.

"Oh." She's surprised, but I can't tell if it's a good surprise or not. Before I can find out, she flushes, apparently only now remembering there are others at the table, all of whom are staring at us uneasily.

I swallow my pride and meet Joe's gaze. "Nice to see you again," I lie through my teeth.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly aware of said lie. "And you," he says evenly.

This seems to be all it takes to snap the others out of their silence. As it turns out, Joe just happens to be the brother of Elliot's college roommate. And apparently, I'm the only one who thinks the guy is a fucking prick. Even Caleb seems happy he's here. I have to admit, I'm a bit jealous of that.

Battaglia and Elliot are talking about baseball, and the douchebag is bragging about his team's advancement in some sort of minor league World Series playoffs. I might be impressed if I thought he had any real impact on his team's standing. My research has shown that while at one point he was good enough to play in the pros, his shoulder injury and cockiness seem to hold him back. It's the last one that concerns me; a man that full of himself to think everything he touches turns to gold knows no bounds. In business, I eat men like him for breakfast. I know fucking well I'm good at what I do, but I don't run around bragging about it. Bragging leads to leaking weaknesses which leads to downfall. When Battaglia brags about a particularly good play he made, he glances over at Ana, probably expecting her to be impressed. He's spent months with her and he hasn't yet figured out that little things like that don't do a fucking thing for her.

No, my Ana much prefers a more personal touch. She's impressed with things like soaring or having a nursery setup as a surprise for her. She wants hearts and flowers, to be loved, cherished, and protected. Pissing contests and men beating their chests to showoff do absolutely nothing for her.

Frowning, I think I've come to some sort of conclusion, but between all my anger and confusion, I'm unable to reach it.

"Are you mad?" Ana asks quietly while everyone else is in conversation.

I think for several moments about the answer to that question. "Yes," I answer. She nods as though she expected that answer. I know she's bracing for the worst—whether that comes out here in this restaurant or in the privacy of our home later. "We'll talk later."

She sighs and goes back to conversing with the others at the table. I keep to myself for the most part, feeding Caleb when he shows signs of hunger. Luckily Ana thought far enough ahead to pack a few bottles. The last thing I need right now is to see her breasts on display for the douchebag across the table. Briefly I wonder if he's ever been witness to her breastfeeding, then push it aside when I feel my blood pressure rise to an alarming rate at the thought. Elliot keeps trying to involve me in the conversation, but to be honest, I couldn't care less about being sociable. I'm here because Ana and my son are here, not because I want to make new friends.

"Excuse me," I say, standing halfway through dinner. Ana looks at me in surprise. "I'll just be a minute."

In the men's room, I take a few minutes to pretend I don't feel like the fifth wheel. It's almost as though I interrupted a double date between Kate and Elliot, and Ana and Joe. That's one hell of a fucking smack in the face. And that smack in the face seems to be exactly what I need at the moment.

This isn't me. I don't stand idly by feeling sorry for myself while somebody else steps in and tries to take over. I take charge of every situation, because otherwise, I stand to lose everything that has ever meant anything to me. My epiphany in Flynn's office this afternoon concerning the true reason I'm so adamant about Ana spending time with Joe Battaglia or any other man who might want to take her from me has left me flustered and uneasy. It doesn't seem to matter to me that I know she loves me, that she'd never leave me; there's always a possibility and I can't take the chance that she may find something better down the road.

I'm sick of being jerked around by Ana. I know what I want. I know what she wants. What I need is to get her to admit it somehow. I have made some major concessions with Anastasia since the day we met and since she's come back from Savannah, I've made even more. Why should I be the only person giving up their lives for this relationship?

Ana has some thinking to do if she wants us to work. I'm done waiting for answers. Tonight, it's time to put up or shut up.

* * *

When Christian returns to the table, I immediately notice the change in him. He's standing taller, his shoulders are squared, and the expression in his eyes can only be described as determined and detached. He sits beside me again, but keeps from placing his arm around my shoulders which is where it's been since his arrival. I've spent that whole time waiting for him to announce he, Caleb, and I were leaving to go home where I'd be facing a very angry Christian Grey, but he's hardly said a word. The only time I've seen any real emotion from him has been when he's paying attention to Caleb. Even Kate and Elliot know something is off with Christian, though they're smart enough to not say anything, particularly with Joe at the table.

At the end of dinner, Elliot pays the bill, ignoring Joe's attempts—Christian didn't even try reaching for his wallet for a change—and everyone stands to say goodbye. Joe and Elliot make plans to get together sometime this weekend, then Joe kisses Kate on the cheek, and turns to me. I feel Christian's eyes on me as Joe reaches out for a hug. Feeling awkward and not wanting to push Christian's patience any further, I surprise him and shake his hand. Of course Joe's a smart guy; he seems to know exactly why I'm not coming any closer. His eyes narrow and dart briefly over my shoulder.

"Right," he says quietly, lifting my hand to his lips to kiss my knuckles before releasing it. I swear I hear Christian growl behind me. "Hopefully I'll see you at the game tomorrow, Ana."

"We'll see," I tell him, tucking my hands behind my back. "If not, good luck."

He smirks and winks. "I don't need luck; I always win." Again, his eyes dart over my shoulder at Christian and I get the sudden impression he's referring to more than just baseball.

Kate and Elliot stand to the side, watching the whole thing as their eyes dart between the three of us. I know Elliot is prepared to grab his brother should the need arise, and Kate seems uncertain about whose side she's on.

"We should go," Christian says quietly, breaking a little of the tension as he picks Caleb up in his car seat.

"Sure," I reply, smiling tightly at the others before following Christian and Caleb out of the restaurant. Taylor and Sawyer are waiting beside the two SUVs that brought Christian and me here separately, and after a nod from Christian, they climb into one, leaving me to load Caleb into the backseat. When the security teams pulls off before us, I'm suddenly nervous about the drive home. There will be no buffer between us and judging by the look in Christian's eyes, I would be much better off with one. Christian holds the passenger side door open for me, his expression still unreadable as I climb in. He pauses rather than closing the door and studies me for a moment.

"Oh, Miss Steele," he murmurs, reaching out to buckle me in before I have the chance to do it for myself. "What the hell am I going to do with you?"

"What do you want to do with me, Mr. Grey?" I ask nervously.

He lifts a hand to my mouth, pulling my bottom lip from between my teeth. "So many things," he says quietly. "Home."

The drive back to Escala is silent aside from Caleb's happy gurgles in the back. I'm a little surprised he hasn't picked up on the tension in the car—or if he has, he's already figured out that baby talk can solve almost any bad mood. I know this because the couple times I look over at Christian, I can see his jaw relaxing slightly the more Caleb goes on and I swear just before we pull into the garage, he's fighting a smile.

That's until we see what I assume to be most of Christian's security team assembled outside the elevators. "What the fuck..." Christian mutters when Taylor approaches the car, stopping us from pulling into a spot. "What's going on?"

"A word, please, sir?" Taylor requests calmly.

Christian rolls the window back up and exits the car. "Stay here with Caleb," he instructs me, and I know better than to argue right now. I watch him meet with the team and listen to their brief, then watch as his mood turns darker and darker with every word spoken. He shoots a look back to me and I think I see something akin to regret in his expression as he fists his hair in his hands. Now he's nodding at something Taylor is saying to him. And finally, he's returning to the car, opening my door, but blocking my way out.

"We're leaving," he says quietly.

I blink in confusion. "Why?" I ask him, my heart beginning to race at the unreadable expression in his eyes.

He swallows hard, but shakes his head, stepping back so he can close the door again. A moment later, he's opening the back of the SUV and someone is placing what look to be suitcases inside. I'm beginning to panic. Have I fucked up so badly this time that he's packed my bags for me and is planning to send me away? And then he's back in the driver's seat, putting the car in reverse, and quickly leaving the Escala parking garage. We're on the highway before I find the nerve to speak. "Christian, what's going on?" I ask quietly.

Christian tightens his grip around the steering wheel. "Not now, Anastasia," he says, his voice low and barely under control.

"What do you mean not now?" I ask him. "Where are we going?"

He ignores me.

I glare at him, turning my attention to the backseat where Caleb is obliviously playing with his feet. I can't tell whether Christian is pissed about Joe or whatever his security team said to him, but he doesn't get to do this; if something is wrong, it involves our son. I have a right to know.

Before I get the nerve to demand answers for him, he takes a breath, releasing it slowly, and begins to speak as though he's reading my mind. "When Taylor and Sawyer arrived at Escala, there was somebody in the apartment," he says quietly as I settle back in my chair, staring at him in shock. "This person managed to get in past all our security and preventative measures. Taylor noticed the signs first, but by the time they discovered where the person was hiding out, they were gone."

"Where were they hiding?" I whisper, my eyes wide.

His eyes dart sidelong to me and I can't tell if it's in warning or reluctance. "We should wait to have this conversation," he says quietly, looking briefly into the rearview mirror, possibly at Caleb.

"Christian..." I whisper, begging.

We're at a stoplight when he finally meets my gaze again and I have never seen such fear and regret in his eyes before. Well, that's not quite true; one other instance comes to mind: the day I left him.

"Caleb's nursery," he breathes reluctantly.

With a gasp, I remove my seatbelt and climb into the back to be with my son, all before the light turns green again.

"Ana," Christian begins, his tone pleading.

"Who was it?" I demand.

Running a hand down his face, Christian begins to drive again. "I don't know," he answers reluctantly. "We also don't know how they got in or how they got out, and we don't know their intentions. Taylor would feel more comfortable if the three of us were gone for the night, somewhere safe so he can conduct a more thorough, unhindered search. We're going to the Fairmont."

I take a few minutes to allow this to sink in, dozens of questions on the tip of my tongue, but I can't voice any of them. Christian keeps looking at me nervously as though he's expecting me to freak out any second. Finally, I have something new to focus on as Christian pulls into the hotel parking lot and stops at the front door. Without waiting for him or the valet, I take Caleb from his car seat, and exit the car. Christian takes care of removing our bags from the back and catches up to me as I enter the building.

"Ana, please don't panic," he whispers as he leads the way to the check-in desk.

I glare at him. "Don't panic?" I repeat in a low voice. "Someone was in your apartment, in my son's bedroom, and Caleb could have so easily been there, too, and you tell me to not panic? Are you insane?"

His jaw tenses and I know his temper is barely being kept at bay; for once I don't care. "Reservation under the name Steele," he tells the front desk. My eyes widen in surprise and he throws me a brief smirk over his shoulder. The valet brings in the rest of our things, which seem to consist of everything Caleb will need for a week, but Christian declines assistance to our room, instead using a cart to push everything. We don't speak again until we're in the elevator, surrounded by tension and silence.

"Tell me the truth for a change," I say quietly. "How bad is this?"

He looks at me evenly as though he's trying to decide how much I can handle. "Bad," he answers quietly. "And for the record, I always venture to tell you the truth. Perhaps you could do the same in return."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask him. But the elevator doors open and he gestures for me and Caleb to exit first with him following with our cart.

We're in the Cascade suite and under more normal circumstances, I'd be impressed with our surroundings. It's a lovely room, but I'm suddenly exhausted and just want to sleep. Unfortunately, the look on Christian's face suggests it'll be a while before I can collapse onto a bed.

"I'll get Caleb set up in one of the bedrooms," he murmurs, removing the portable crib from the cart. He's only gone a few minutes before he returns. As much as I don't want to let go of my son right now, I hand Caleb over to his father and take a seat on the couch in the room. Christian sighs when he rejoins me, sitting on a chair nearby, though I don't miss the fact that he remains out of touching distance from me.

Running his hands roughly over his face, he rests his elbows on his knees, finally meeting my gaze. "This is Leila all over again."

Somehow I don't think he meant to say that out loud. "Who?" I ask cluelessly.

He looks startled when he realizes his thoughts weren't internal. Sighing heavily, his fingers move through his hair. "Leila," he says resignedly. "Last year, when I came to see you in Savannah and I took you soaring..." A smile of pure joy crosses his face for a moment and I feel myself return it. "I was supposed to have dinner with you and your parents, but I was called back to Seattle suddenly."

I remember that. When I arrived back in Seattle after visiting my mother, I remember how preoccupied he'd been, how desperate he was to see me. I never did find out anything more. "So what happened?" I ask quietly. "Who is she?"

Sighing, he takes a few moments to arrange his thoughts, his expression darkening. "An ex-sub," he says coolly. "She suffered a mental break following a series of very bad experiences and the day I left you in Savannah, she'd broken into my apartment and made a half-assed attempt to open a vein in front of Mrs. Jones." I gasp, covering my mouth. He ignores my reaction. "To make a long, drawn out, frustrating story short, Leila disappeared again and we made it a priority to find her because we worried she would hurt herself and somebody else. I believed the reason for this break was because she'd seen the photo of you and me at your graduation. She turned her obsession onto me, trying to figure out why it was that you seemed so different than her and all my other subs that I wanted to give you more than I gave any of them. She also broke into your and Kate's apartment after you left, before Kate returned from Barbados, which played right into Taylor's hands. He realized you were Leila's focus and waited for her to show up. Under normal circumstances, I would have been more concerned about getting her help; on some level, I knew I was partly responsible for her breakdown. But as I was still dealing with losing you, I couldn't find enough patience to handle things properly. She managed to acquire a firearms permit and bought a gun, and I almost welcomed a fight with her. I knew you were safe—Taylor had dispatched a few security personnel to Savannah to ensure that much—and it got to the point I didn't give a shit about what happened to me."

I'm horrified by the meaning of his words; I know exactly what he's not saying...

"Anyway, in the end, we caught up to her, and we haven't heard from her since."

"What happened to her?"

"Dr. Flynn made arrangements for her at a psychiatric hospital and she spent a few months there for treatment. And before you ask, no, she wasn't the one who broke in tonight. She was the first person Taylor suspected; she's in Connecticut with her parents and doing very well."

I let all of this sink in, realizing Christian is watching me closely for my reaction. "So who could have done it tonight?"

He shrugs. "It could be anybody from another ex-sub to a business deal gone bad to Hyde's accomplice. Personally, I'm leaning towards that last one. But until Escala has been absolutely secured, I'm not letting you or Caleb back into the apartment."

"Okay," I agree quietly.

Watching me again, I can almost see his mind changing tracks and I think I know what is coming up next. "Ana, more than anything else right now, I need to know that you trust me."

"Of course I trust you," I respond immediately.

"Do you, though?" he replies broodingly. "Because there are times that I really wonder whether you do or not." He shakes his head when I begin to argue. "I had a session with Dr. Flynn today and our topic of discussion was you and the argument we had last night. You seem to think I don't respect the fact that you have a life outside me. Anastasia, you couldn't be more wrong. I do respect it, but I also fear it. Because if you can so easily switch me off for that other life, what are the chances that I could ever keep you?"

"Christian, that's not—" I begin.

The bleak expression he gives me silences me. "You spent a year without me, Ana. You changed. You made friends and a life that didn't involve me. The only reason we're here now is because we have a son. I have given up so much of myself since I first met you that I hardly recognize the man I am today. And not to sound cruel and heartless, but what have you given up for me? I tell you I'm uncomfortable with your friendship with a man who would take you away from me at the slightest hint that he could get away with it, and your response is to fight me, ignore my concerns, and go out with him anyway. All this because you think I'm jealous, overprotective, overbearing, possessive, and a stalker. Which, to be fair, I am, but that doesn't mean I don't deserve to be treated with love and respect, especially by the woman who means the absolute most to me.

"I love you, Anastasia, but I can't keep going on like this. I can't feel like I'm the only one who gives a shit about whether we work out. You wanted me to choose between you and Caleb, and Elena. I chose you. Who do you choose?"

"Christian, why does it sound like you're breaking up with me?" I whisper, my eyes wide and filled with tears.

He watches me impassively for several moments as my words process in his mind. "Is that what you want, Anastasia?" he asks as evenly as he can.

"No!" I exclaim, reaching out for his hands and ignoring the shooting pain in my broken arm; his entire body stiffens. "Christian, never! Of course I choose you; every time and without fail. I didn't think. I'm sorry."

"I don't think you understand just how badly I've got it for you, Ana," he tells me. "How deeply I love you. Because of how I feel about you—how I've always felt about you—I was unable to respond to any of those women in my playroom. Unable to move on from you. It's the reason I didn't see any point in my life when you left and why I spent my nights almost begging for Leila to come into my apartment to shoot me."

My breath catches and I can't stand the distance anymore. I push him back into his chair, clambering into his lap. Thankfully, he doesn't push me away; he tentatively raises his arms to hold me against him. "Please don't ever say that again, Christian Grey," I beg. "If something had happened to you, it would have killed me. You're right; I haven't tried very hard."

Christian sucks in a sharp breath as we both recall a similar conversation from the day I left him. "I don't want you to try and be anybody but yourself, Ana. One of these days, I'll convince you that you are everything I need and more."

"And one day I'll convince you of the same," I respond, resting my head of his shoulder. "I want this, too, more than I can say; and you're right—you've given up a lot for me. You deserve the same consideration. I'll try harder. I promise."

His body begins to relax finally. "Thank you," he whispers, pressing a kiss to my head.

I need more contact than that, though, so before Christian can speak again, I turn myself around and straddle him, noting the surprised expression in his eyes as I kiss him deeply. He groans and presses me against him, increasing the intensity of the kiss, and I think I know where this is going... Until he bumps my casted arm.

"Ana, no," he says breathlessly, pulling away.

I frown at him. "Why?"

He rolls his eyes in exasperation. "Why do you think?" he asks. "You're hurt; I don't want to make it worse than it already is."

"Christian, I'm fine," I reply, trying to remain patient. "I barely hurt anymore."

He's torn. It's been over a week since our night at the Heathman and that ended in a less than satisfying manner. I know he's been keeping me at arm's length since the accident so I can recover, but after everything that has happened, we both need a way to reconnect. Without it, we begin to doubt and we end up miserable. He glances over his shoulder, clearly wondering if this will be another moment interrupted by Caleb, but there isn't even the slightest stirring in the other room.

"Fuck it," he mutters, crushing our lips together.

I barely get a grip around his neck before he's standing up and taking me to the bedroom, still kissing me deeply. We fall onto the bed together, not breaking our grip on each other even as he begins to remove my clothing. He pulls away briefly, panting, and his eyes are on fire. "Trust me?" he breathes.

I nod. "Always."

Pushing himself onto his knees, he takes his tie from his pocket and very carefully, very gently lifts my broken arm up, bringing my good one with it and wraps the tie around my wrists, careful not to pull it too tight. "How's that?" he asks, looking eager to get on with our first bit of kink since our reunion.

"Good," I answer honestly, feeling just as eager. He beams at me and makes quick work of what's left of our clothes, pressing his lips against every inch of my exposed skin.

"I hate fighting with you, Anastasia," he murmurs against my collarbone. "But I absolutely love making up with you."

"Me, too," I mouth at him. He pulls away again, leaning over the side of the bed as though he's looking for something in his suit pants. I come to a spur of the moment decision, a way to show Christian I am committed to him and to us. I slip one hand out of the loosely knotted tie and take the condom from his hand.

He looks at me uncertainly when I don't immediately open it, instead placing it on the bedside table. "But I thought..."

"So did I," I reply. "But you were right; if it happens, it happens, and as long as we're both on the same page, it'll be good. With you, it's always good, Christian."

"You're sure?" he breathes.

Biting my lip briefly, I nod. "If you are, so am I."

"Ana, around you, I'm not sure about anything," he answers. "Except how crazy you make me and how much I love you."

I raise a playful eyebrow. "Crazy, huh? Perhaps you should have another session with Dr. Flynn."

"Think so?" he asks, eyes narrowed on me as he considers my suggestion. "Actually, I think what I really need is a session with you, Anastasia."

"And yet, we're still talking..."

"Oh, Ana," he says in a low voice, lowering himself to rest on me. "We're not done talking, baby, not by a long shot." He nudges my legs apart, settling himself between them. "I love hearing your voice, so..." He sinks into my body, merging us completely. "I think I can guarantee that the talking we'll be doing won't involve actual words..."


	22. Chapter 22

It's going on three in the morning and I'm wide awake, watching Ana sleeping peacefully. Weeks ago, when I first found out about my son, I don't think I ever believed this was how things might go for us. The number of arguments we've had that have led to us wondering whether we could manage this relationship are high. Granted, we argued a lot last year after first meeting, but those were usually solved in a timely manner and I always felt we learned from them—we learned a little more about each other and always managed to find a compromise. So why are we fighting like this now? Is it merely because we're both so stubborn or perhaps we're harboring more pain from our separation than either of us is willing to admit?

Either way, as much as I want to believe this is the end of our personal troubles, I know better. We're too alike in some ways, too stubborn and set in our ways. The Anastasia Steele I met last year was strong-willed, but she was also uncertain about a lot of things and needed guidance. It was one of the things that drew me to her in the first place—she was so innocent and in need of protection, and I so wanted to be the person to provide that for her. Since she's been away, she's gotten stronger, more confident, despite what she believes, and I realize she's perfectly capable of protecting herself. She's done it enough whenever we've fought that I can't deny it anymore.

I love the person she's become and I truly don't want her to change a thing. She's built a whole new life without me this last year and all I need is to know that I have a place in that life. After living in a state of perpetual darkness and agonizing hell at times, I need to feel a deep, unbreakable connection with her and know she wants me even a fraction as much as I want her.

And as much as I want to wake her up right now and show her everything I'm feeling, she needs her rest, so I slip out of bed and head into the next room where Caleb is also wide awake, kicking his little feet into the air like it's the most entertaining thing in the world. I lean over the edge of the portable crib and he grins when he finds me.

"You should be asleep," I say sternly, lifting him into my arms. "After your very eventful few weeks, you should be exhausted." His only reply is a gurgle and I get the impression he's telling me I need my sleep, too. "Don't you worry about any of this, Caleb; your mom and I will sort out our issues, and I'll fix this whole mess with Jack Hyde and his accomplice—whoever that might be—and I'll give you both the life you deserve. You'll see; it will all be perfect for us..."

I wander out into the main room, then head out onto the patio overlooking the world, grabbing a jacket to keep Caleb warm.

Thinking back to the time immediately following Ana leaving me last year, I still have trouble working out how I managed to get through it. There were times, some very bleak times, when I would have done just about anything to erase the pain I was suffering. It wasn't only a hope that Leila would put me out of my misery; I imagined all sorts of horrifying scenarios. Whether the people around me recognized the signs of a man approaching the end of his tether, I still don't really know, but I began noticing subtle changes to my surroundings. The door to the deck at my penthouse apartment was locked when before, I never bothered. As high up as I live, even Spider-Man would be exhausted by the time he reached the top. Anything that could be considered a tool that I could use to harm myself was removed from sight and locked up. Whenever I decided on an evening drink to try and relax, I noticed Taylor lingered a little closer than he normally would. Despite my threats to fire them if they continued, Taylor and the rest of the security team took to following me whenever I left the apartment.

I wish I could say I know with absolute certainty that I'd never go to such drastic measures, but looking back, I'm not entirely convinced. All those moments that I lay awake in bed, thinking through all the possible options, were moments not spent dwelling on the fact that the only woman I could ever want and love had left me. I wasn't focusing on thoughts of my Ana finding the strength to move on and find somebody new. Those thoughts had a tendency to make me feel physically, violently ill—even though she was gone, she was still mine. I'm the only man to touch her, to see her in the midst of an orgasm, or to know all the little sounds she made, her incredible, unique scent. The thought of her allowing someone else that experience caused rage beyond anything I've ever felt in my entire life.

I've known all along I'd be unable to respond to another woman—not that that stopped me from trying—but I didn't know if she was with another man. I knew that if I checked up on her and found out she was, I'd be on the first plane to Savannah with the express intention of ripping the arms off whatever fucker dared get near her. I almost wish I'd broken my rule and looked into what she'd been doing—I'd have learned about Caleb sooner and perhaps Ana wouldn't have had such a rough pregnancy. Still, I don't know how I would have reacted, especially given my reaction when Ana so innocently and easily declared her love for me before leaving me.

"I just wasn't ready, Caleb," I murmur to my son, resting my cheek on his head. "Not for you, not for her... Not for any of it."

Am I ready for the future I have planned out for the three of us? I want to say yes, but in reality, I'm scared shitless. All my carefully acquired control barely exists most of the time and I'm still trying to figure out how to handle that. If Ana and I can manage to keep our heads above sand and catch up and outrun our troubles, I think we'll be just fine.

Maybe Ana was right about having a second child so soon after Caleb. There is still so much we need to learn about each other. We both need to make adjustments to ourselves and let go of our pain and overcome our doubts. I think I know how to get a start on that; I only hope I haven't misread the situation entirely. This is a life that is brand-new for me and most of the time, I'm making everything up as I go along—and that is something I've never done.

_That's how normal people operate, Grey. Every day is something new—a new experience, a new adventure. Normal people don't have to plan out every second in minute detail. Loss of control is expected sometimes. Welcome to the real world..._

"Come on, Caleb," I say quietly, resolutely as I head back into the suite. "We've got arrangements to make."

* * *

Though I wouldn't normally be bothered by such things, I wait until a decent hour before making my phone calls. Naturally, the first is to Taylor who sounds as though he hasn't slept in weeks as he informs me that the only lead they've discovered is that the intruder in my apartment was a woman. He came to this conclusion after watching the CCTV security footage for hours and began to notice the way the person carried themselves—they were wearing heavy jackets and a hat, possibly to make us think it was a man, but the build and gait was that of a woman. Again, my mind goes to Leila and those few weeks that she was running around Seattle unchecked and mentally unbalanced. My concern, once we worked out that Leila's real obsession was with Anastasia, was that Leila would discover Ana had moved to Savannah and she'd jump onto a plane to go after her. Taylor put out APBs with Seattle PD to apprehend her should they come across her, careful to throw in a line about her being a sick young woman and desperately needing medical assistance. He also blacklisted her at every airport in Washington State to ensure she couldn't purchase a plane ticket—or if she did, Taylor would be alerted immediately, long before she could board any flight.

Taylor assures me yet again that Leila is in Connecticut and doing well. He even had Flynn call her just to check that she isn't somehow faking normalcy to lull us into complacency. As much as I hate to admit it, there is a possibility that the intruder is one of my other former subs. Taylor is going to look into each and every one of them—that ought to keep him busy for a few days, particularly following the last year. Of course we're not ruling out the possibility that the intruder is Jack Hyde's accomplice, but as we have no idea who that might be right now, we're at a dead end.

Today, however, my only goal is to do whatever possible to take Ana's mind off our troubles and attempt to make up for every hurt I've dealt her over the last few weeks. We both deserve something good for a change.

My next call is to arrange for that something good. It's something I've been working on for quite a while now and this is the perfect opportunity to share my plan with Anastasia. I want to see the surprise on her face when she sees it—I've been imagining her reaction for weeks. The wonder in her eyes, the appreciation for the amazing. I might still be working on that whole hearts and flowers thing, but at least now I realize I'm capable of it when I actually try. And for Ana, I'm willing to do just about anything.

As always, I'm aware of Ana's presence before I actually see her. She's adorably sleep-rumpled, but beautiful. Always beautiful. "Good morning," I say quietly so as to not wake Caleb who is sleeping against my chest as I read emails on my blackberry. "I was just about to order room service for breakfast before waking you."

She wanders over and sits beside us. "Breakfast sounds perfect," she murmurs huskily.

I smile fondly, leaning over to kiss her despite her objections about her morning breath. "So I thought I'd take the two of you someplace today," I inform her.

"Where?" she asks, resting her head on my shoulder and watching Caleb.

"It's a surprise. One I very much hope you'll like. But it's only an idea at this point; if you don't like it, I can figure out something else."

She raises an eyebrow at me, possibly because I seem to be babbling. "Okay," she says slowly. "Though you should know that if it's something you arranged, I'll probably like it."

I smile shyly, recalling all the times I managed to surprise her and how she seemed to love every one of them. "I hope so." I hand Caleb over to her and he grumbles at being moved, but doesn't wake as I stand up. "You two relax. I'll order us some breakfast. Any requests?"

She shrugs, nuzzling Caleb's copper-colored curls with her nose. "Surprise me," she says with a grin.

Chuckling, I reach for the phone, already enjoying the turn this day is taking.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, breakfast is wonderful and it's really nice to see Christian relaxing and smiling, and actually looking his age for a change. The only time that expression slips is when I inquire about the intruder at Escala; he gives me what little information he's learned from Taylor, then promptly changes the subject.

In the time it takes me to shower and dress, Christian has dressed himself in faded blue jeans and his usual white linen shirt, and has dressed Caleb similarly, making our son look like his father's mini-me. Naturally, I grab my camera and snap a picture of the adorableness of it all. Once we're all ready to leave, Christian leads us to the hotel lobby and outside where a valet is waiting with the keys to the SUV. Christian loads us inside, then jogs to the other side to climb into the driver's seat, and we're off to... who the hell knows where.

Normally, I'm not particularly fond of surprises, but seeing Christian so eager and nervous about whatever this one might be leaves me curious. I know there's no point trying to guess; Christian would never do something so common as being predictable. While he drives, we talk and laugh, singing along with the radio when the mood strikes us. He turns into a residential area and the further into it we get, the more grand the houses seem to get. I wonder if we're visiting someone and if so, why would Christian not just tell me? My curiosity only grows when we stop in front of tall, iron gates. Christian rolls down the window and punches in a code on the keypad to open the gates and driving up the long path to the house. The scene is beautiful—full trees, a meadow, and I can just make out some body of water in the backyard.

Ours is the only car here, which only serves to confuse me. "Where are we?" I ask as he shuts off the ignition and turns towards me.

"Like I said," he begins, eyes wide with nerves, "it's an idea. I really want your honest opinion, even if it's just to tell me I'm completely out of my mind. Can you do that?"

I nod. "Of course."

He smiles and we get out of the car, Christian taking Caleb from the backseat, then taking my hand and guiding me up to the front doors. He lets me go briefly to retrieve a key from his pocket and I manage to refrain from asking why he's got a key for a house that looks to be completely empty from our view through the large front windows. I barely have time to look around the large entrance hall when Christian takes my hand again, leading me through the house. He is a man on a mission, not looking at anything we pass until we arrive at a set of French doors leading to a huge stone terrace. I gasp at the view in front of me when we step outside again, taking in the perfectly manicured lawn that leads to the Puget Sound. In a matter of seconds, a hundred thoughts run through my mind—possibilities involving the meadow and imagining how it would all look at sunrise and sunset. I'm overwhelmed in the very best way possible and it takes me a few minutes to realize Christian has released my hand and is staring at me rather than the gorgeous view in front of us.

"What are we doing here?" I breathe, unable to tear my eyes away from the natural beauty surrounding us.

Christian takes a breath. "Well," he begins slowly, "I've spent a lot of time sailing the coast here and I've always wanted to live by the water—it calms me in a way I can't really describe." He grins wryly at me. "The effect you have on me is similar, actually."

I nod at his words, understanding exactly what he means about the water being calming. "It's beautiful here," I say softly.

"I think so," he agrees. "How would you feel about seeing this every day for the rest of your life?" I snap my neck around to stare at him in surprise. He takes a step closer to me. "You can wake up every morning and stare at the water. You can lie out here all day if you want. It could be someplace to raise our family. If you want it to be, of course."

Every day for the rest of my life... The concept is both enticing and slightly frightening. But I knew how I would answer his question the moment we stepped onto the terrace, even if I didn't know he would ask. "That would be absolutely amazing," I tell him honestly.

His shy smile is back. "Really?" he whispers hopefully. I nod, biting my lip briefly and feeling shy myself. "Do you mean that?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't."

Relieved at my response, his entire body relaxes and he pulls me into a hug with the free arm not holding onto Caleb, and I wrap my arms around his waist while we stare out at the water. When I pull away, I ask if we can look at the rest of the house, much to his apparent surprise. He wants to demolish the existing house to build something brand-new that is up to date with all the latest ecological technologies. The more we explore, however, the more I want to object to that.

"I like the house," I say to him as we stand in front of the large bay window in the master bedroom. "It's a little beat up, but can't you just keep the original structure and update it to more sustainable?"

He looks confused at my question. "I suppose I could," he says slowly. "I'd have to talk to Elliot about it; it's more his forte than mine. But don't you want something built to be everything you could want? I want to give you that."

"This is what I want," I insist.

Thinking things over, Christian nods slowly. "Okay," he finally says. "I'll talk to Elliot."

"Are you going to buy it?" I ask him, surprised for some reason.

"As long as you like it, yes." He hesitates for a moment, his brow furrowed. "The night I found out about Caleb," he says quietly, "I had a dream about living in a place like this with you and Caleb. It was the first time I ever woke from a dream and felt... I don't know, like I was at home. I saw Caleb playing in the yard with siblings, and you and I were together and so happy. It was amazing, Ana, and now I want to make it our reality."

I have no idea how to respond, so I close the distance between us and kiss him for all I'm worth, wanting that exact dream with him as well. This house, this moment, is our more and I'll do anything to hold onto it.


	23. Chapter 23

After showing Ana the house where I hope we will spend the rest of our lives together, we have lunch and discuss what we want to do with the rest of our day. Taylor called earlier to inform me that the apartment is now secure, all the codes to reach the penthouse and every lock changed. We could go home at any point, but neither Ana nor I are eager to return just yet. She hasn't said so out loud, but I can see in her eyes how nervous she is about it. The fact that the intruder hid out in our son's nursery has both of us shaken; what if Ana hadn't gone to dinner with Kate and Elliot and Battaglia? If she and Caleb had been at home during the break-in? Would this person have hurt them? Would they have taken Caleb? The thought is positively terrifying and it's something I will do everything possible to ensure it never happens.

It occurs to me that I could finalize the sale on the house on the Sound by the end of the day and if it came down to it, if Ana is uncomfortable at Escala, we could move in immediately. I'm sure Elliot could find a way to work around us to complete whatever construction we want done. It surprises me just how eager I am to get a start on my new life with Ana and Caleb. Now that I know without any shadow of doubt that she is just as invested in us as I am, I want everything with her and I'm not worried that she feels differently.

Following our lunch, the three of us walk through the streets of Seattle with no real destination in mind. Caleb is asleep in the stroller Taylor packed for us last night and my arm is around Ana's shoulders as I push him. I still find it slightly odd being in this situation—it's good odd, though, and I hardly react when I see a member of the paparazzi snap a couple pictures of us. So far, my reunion with Ana and meeting my son has been kept quiet; it's only been a matter of time before the news broke that the young billionaire CEO of one of the most successful companies in the country is now a family man. Because that is what I am: a family man. Ana and Caleb are my family and I fucking love that thought.

On our way back to the hotel, having decided we're going back to Escala for the time being, Ana gets a call from Kate and I watch her expression drop when she sends nervous glances at me until the call ends.

"What was that about?" I murmur.

She licks her lips, focusing her gaze on Caleb. "Kate wanted to remind me that Joe invited all of us to his game tonight," she says warily.

"Oh," I respond coolly. Yes, I'd forgotten about that. I do love a good baseball game, but the fact that one of the players desperately wants in Ana's panties puts a bit of a damper on that. Then again, I want Ana to know that I want her to have her friends and even a life outside of me, just as long as she comes back. I trust that she would never allow anything to happen between her and Battaglia, though I don't trust him in the slightest. So as long as I'm with her to make sure he doesn't do something that will make me want to rip off his arms, I don't see any reason why we can't have an evening out to enjoy a game. "Do you want to go?"

Her eyes widen as though she's surprised that I didn't immediately say no. She shrugs, uncertain how to answer. "It could be fun," she says tentatively. "The team is actually really good this year."

"Then we'll go," I say decisively. "I haven't been to a baseball game in years. Carrick has season tickets to the Mariners and Elliot goes with him to most games, but I haven't had the opportunity to join them as much as I'd like."

"So you want to go to the game even though you can't stand Joe?" she asks skeptically.

"Well, I'm not going because he's there; I'm going because it's something you seem to enjoy and we could use a bit of fresh air. Besides, I'm always up for betting on games with Elliot; he's complete shit at it and my record for winning is undefeated."

She smirks at me, shaking her head. "You really are the most competitive man I've ever met," she informs me.

"And you'll do well to remember that," I say only slightly serious. "I don't like losing." I suddenly recall Battaglia's words last night at the restaurant that were directed at me about how he always wins. If he tries anything, the dick won't know what hit him.

* * *

Rather than bringing Caleb with us and risk him waking up and being upset at the noise around us, Christian and I drop him off with his parents who are only too happy to take care of their grandson for an evening. At the stadium, we find Kate and Elliot as well as Mia and Ethan watching the pre-game warm-ups. Automatically, I scan the field for Joe, finding him on the other side doing his stretches. Christian is watching me impassively, but as a change of pace, he doesn't look like he's about to explode as he puts an arm around my shoulders and starts giving Elliot grief about his own short-lived baseball career in high school. Apparently Elliot was more interested in the girls that came along with being a jock and lost interest in playing two seasons later. According to Christian, however, Elliot was kicked off the team because he was terrible. I really like seeing Christian acting like a typical guy, teasing his siblings like it's second nature. And I suppose for him, it is. I wouldn't really know, of course, but there were times growing up that I wished I had a brother or sister so I could partake in similar activities. Caleb won't have to live like that if we have our way; there are a lot of empty bedrooms in the house on the Sound that need to be filled...

"Are you and Christian good?" Kate asks quietly while the men talk sports. Mia is hanging on every word Ethan says with a look of adoration so strong that it seems wrong to watch. "I thought he was going to flip out last night."

"So did I," I admit. "But I think we worked it out. We're both trying to adjust to changes and we don't always know how to deal with it correctly."

Kate nods. "The fact that you haven't strangled each other is to be admired," she says wryly. I roll my eyes at her. "Are you happy?"

I look at her, noting the sudden change in her tone from teasing to serious in the blink of an eye. "Yes," I answer truthfully. "I am happy. We still have work to do on ourselves and our relationship, but I know we can get to that point as long as we both work at it."

Kate smiles. "Good," she says simply. "You deserve it."

"If you two can stop whispering for thirty seconds, we're going for drinks and junk food," Elliot announces, grinning at us. "Any takers?"

The men head off for refreshments and we turn to the field, taking a few moments to do what women do best—salivate at the attractive men preparing to begin their game. Joe spots us and beams, jogging over to our seats. "Didn't think you'd come," he says to me. "Glad you're here, though." Before I can stop him, he pulls himself onto the railing between us and kisses my cheek for a second longer than what is merely friendly and platonic. Mia's eyes are wide and her jaw dropped at the sight.

I quickly back away from Joe, shaking my head. "Don't," I warn him.

His brow furrows. "Don't want?" he asks. "I was just saying hello."

We all know it was a bit more than that, but I hold my tongue for the moment. I know how what Christian meant about it feeling strange for another woman—namely Mrs. Robinson—to touch him. Joe and I might have been close at one point in the last year, and there have been times when he tried pushing the lines of our friendship. When I still thought Christian and I wouldn't have a future together, I didn't bother telling Joe I wasn't interested, though in hindsight, I probably should have; it occurs to me that I might have led him on a bit... "Have a good game," I tell him, trying for a light tone.

He watches me, still standing in front of the railing, and I know he's working out what has triggered my sudden aloofness. "Right," he said tightly, his eyes narrowing over my shoulder. Without even looking, I know Christian is returning; even in the open stadium I can feel the buildup of tension between the two men. Joe looks angry as he drops back onto the field and returns to his team. I don't think I've ever seen him angry; there is no way this ends well.

"Everything okay?" Christian asks, sitting beside me again and handing me a huge soda that would probably take me a day and a half to finish.

"Yeah," I answer, trying to smile. "I had to set Joe straight about a couple things and I don't think he liked it."

"Too fucking bad," Christian murmurs, his eyes narrowing. "Did he touch you?"

I hesitate. The last thing I want is for him to jump onto the field and beat Joe into the ground because of a peck on the cheek, even if that peck was on the hairy edge of acceptable. Christian's jaw tenses. "It was brief," I assure him, "and I pulled away and told him to back off."

"You did?" he asks, surprised.

I nod. "Of course I did. I only want your touch." I watch as realization dawns in his expression as I repeat the words he's spoken to me before.

"Damn right only mine," he growls, though his eyes are soft and loving.

The game itself is relatively uneventful. Every so often, I catch Joe glancing at us. I think Christian does too, because whenever I catch him, Christian breaks our gaze by kissing me and I swear he smirks every time he pulls away. He's intentionally baiting a man he knows wants me, staking his claim on me at every opportunity. Even when Kate picks up on it and tells him to stop being a child, he only grins.

"You're enjoyed that far too much," I inform him, taking his hand as he drives us to pick up Caleb after the game. Much to Christian's obvious amusement, Joe's team lost.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he murmurs, squeezing my fingers and trying to fight a grin. "Today's been a good day. Thank you."

I lift his hand up to kiss his knuckles, earning a shy, boyish smile in response. "I should be thanking you, actually," I say quietly. "The house was beautiful. And the fact that you voluntarily spent time in the same space as someone whose head you want to rip off just so I could spend time with my friends was wonderful." Because I know that was his intention, to show me he in no way wants to keep me from my friends or any opportunity to have fun, whether with him or otherwise.

We drive in silence, each of us lost in our thoughts, until Christian takes a deep breath. I look over at him expectantly and see a brooding expression on his face. "On my way to the restaurant last night, I was thinking about my session with Flynn, and I had a thought."

"Oh?" I ask, surprised at my nervousness.

"Ana, more than anything, I want to be able to move forward with you without either of us being afraid, so I thought it might be good if we had a session with Flynn together," he says hesitantly.

I stare at him. "What, like couples therapy?" I ask, adding a teasing lilt to my voice in an attempt to break the tension.

He nods, intently watching the road. "Yes, like couples therapy," he says warily, obviously concerned with my reaction. "I just think there are still things we're not telling each other, whether we're aware of it or not. Flynn has a way of getting people to open up without them realizing they're doing it. But we have to be careful, Ana. It could be incredibly beneficial, but it could also have the power to break us completely. I don't want that to happen. Not to us."

"So we won't let it," I say simply, even though the thought of us breaking is quite possibly the most frightening thing I've ever faced.

As we pull into his parents' driveway, he throws me a sad, uncertain smile, and I realize he feels just as frightened as I do.

* * *

Sunday was absolutely perfect. For once, I did nothing but spend every second with Ana and Caleb. I turned my cell phone off before breakfast, told Taylor to leave us alone—if he had something to tell me, he was to decide if it's an urgent matter that needs my immediate attention, but otherwise, I didn't want to see him or any other member of the security at all. I wasn't worried about work the way I would normally be if I was spending a day at home. There were no outside interruptions from family or friends, and we weren't on the normal timetable. We watched movies, ate junk food, played with Caleb, and were just generally lazy. I don't remember ever having such a down day in my life; I never had time for one between work, submissives, and other obligations, but I found I rather enjoyed it.

So far, Monday has been much less perfect. Aside from being incredibly nervous about the session I scheduled with Flynn this evening—something that I'm sure he's going to charge the hell out of me for, since he opened a spot for us after his normal hours—there is one other thing that I've very carefully planned and hope like hell I can pull off with perfection, because that's what Anastasia deserves. All the arrangements have been made, but whether we follow through with them is dependent on how things go with Flynn.

On the upside, the sale for the house on the Sound was finalized this morning—it's amazing the things that can be rushed when you're willing to pay. Elliot is on board to do the construction whenever we come up with plans. Again, those plans are contingent on what happens with the therapy session. I've got a meeting setup with Gia Matteo who did the designing on my place in Aspen. I'm not a huge fan of hers—from the moment we met, I realized she's nothing more than a sexual predator and tends to not understand the concept of personal space. The only reason I selected her to do any work for me at all is because she's damn good at what she does, one of the best in the Pacific Northwest. I have no doubt Ana is going to hate her on sight, but I have to admit I do find a bit of enjoyment in seeing her get jealous over me.

My green-eyed goddess...

The afternoon has done nothing to improve my mood, especially when I received a phone call from Elena who apparently wants to apologize for what happened at my parents' house on my birthday. I let the call rollover to voicemail; after the things she said about Ana and Caleb, I have nothing to say to her. I'm tempted to end our business relationship along with our friendship, but I'll save that for another day. I seriously doubt this is the last we've seen of Elena Lincoln and if she strikes out again, I'll have leverage against her.

Much to our frustration, we're still nowhere near discovering the identity of the person who broke into my apartment. Taylor's checks on my former subs haven't turned up anything suspicious. For a brief moment, we considered the possibility that it was Elena, but behavior like that isn't her style. Not that it's stopped us from double checking her alibi for the night of the break-in. Hyde isn't talking. He's still in the hospital and since he regained consciousness, the only words he says are to demand his lawyer. No matter; we'll get him sing like a fucking canary eventually.

As my work day comes to an end, all I want is to go home and curl up with Ana and Caleb for the night. I can't, though; Ana is meeting me at Flynn's office in half an hour after dropping Caleb off with my parents again. Assuming everything goes to plan, we'll pick him up tomorrow.

"Everything is finalized?" I ask Taylor as I slide into the backseat of the SUV.

"It is, Mr. Grey," he confirms, pulling into Seattle's evening traffic.

"Good. When we get to Flynn's, you and Sawyer head over to my parents' house to keep an eye on things," I instruct. "Ana and I will go from there."

Taylor nods once, probably still annoyed that I refused to allow him or another member of the security team to follow us tonight despite the potential danger from unknown sources. My plans tonight are very specific and don't involve being tailed all fucking night.

Sawyer and Ana are waiting for us in the parking garage under the building that houses Flynn's office. I find myself unable to resist smiling when I see her, temporarily forgetting about my frustrating, nerve-filled day. "Hi," I murmur, pulling her to me and tilting her chin up to kiss her.

"Hi yourself," she replies when we pull apart. I very much enjoy seeing that dazed look in her eyes knowing I'm the only man in the world to make her feel that way. "How was your day?"

I smile. "Slowly improving," I say, lacing our fingers together and pulling her towards the elevator. "How was Caleb?"

"Adorable as always," she answers. "And very pleased to see your parents again so soon. I think he's figured out already that they'll spoil him rotten."

Chucking, I wrap my arms around her, relaxing for the first time today from her warmth and scent. "Smart kid."

Flynn's office is empty when we arrive. It seems he's sent his secretary home for the evening and left his office door open for us let ourselves in. I can feel Ana's body tense when we find Flynn at his desk doing a bit of paperwork and I realize she's just as nervous as I am about this. Though she's probably more nervous about talking to a stranger about her problems than anything else; therapy is a foreign concept to her, just as it should be, since she's generally speaking the most well-balanced person I know.

"Evening, John," I say, automatically closing the office door behind us despite the place being deserted.

Flynn smiles and sets aside his paperwork. "Good evening, Christian," he says. "And hello again, Anastasia."

"Ana," she says quietly, shaking Flynn's hand. "Please.

"Ana it is," Flynn says kindly, gesturing for us to sit. "Christian and I usually begin our sessions with a bit of pleasant chat to relax, Ana, so let's start there. How are you?"

Glancing uncertainly at me, she shrugs slightly. "Fine, I guess."

"You seem to be recovering from your accident quite well," Flynn probes. "How's the arm?"

"Getting much better," she answers, relaxing minutely. "Hopefully I'll get the cast off in a couple weeks—my arm is itching like crazy."

Flynn chuckles. "Well, I'm happy to hear there are no lasting injuries. And how is Caleb?"

We spend another five minutes talking. The moment Flynn notices Ana finally relaxing into the couch instead of sitting on the edge straight-backed and looking like she's just waiting for a moment to bolt from the room, he picks up his notepad and sits back in his chair. "So Christian, since you arranged this appointment, why don't you tell me what's going on," he says, switching into his professional mode.

"A lot of reasons," I answer. "More to the point, we each want to move forward, but we seem to be fixated on things that have happened in the past or insecurities."

"What sorts of insecurities?" Flynn asks, cocking his head to the side and darting his eyes to Ana.

When she hesitates to speak, I realize I'm going to have to be the one who gets this conversation started. "She's afraid," I say quietly, watching Ana closely.

"Of what, Christian?"

"That I'll leave her. That despite how often I tell her otherwise, she won't be enough for me and eventually I'll realize that, and leave her—or worse, take on a new submissive to meet what she believes my needs to be."

Ana is staring at me in shock, realizing she hasn't vocalized those concerns, particularly the ones from her dream in the hospital.

"She also thinks that if I leave her, I'll take our son with me and she'll be left with nothing."

"How do you..." she breathes.

I lightly run my fingers across the back of her neck. "The nightmare you had in the hospital, the one that you woke crying from... You were talking in your sleep; I put enough of it together to figure out what was happening."

"Is all this true, Ana?" Flynn asks, pulling our attention back to him.

She nods, averting her gaze from me. "Yes, it's true," she admits.

"And when Christian tells you that you are what he wants and needs, you don't believe him?"

"No, I believe him," she says quickly. "I know that right here, right now, I'm what he wants and needs, but it's all so new for us and people change, don't they? He could get bored or fed up with me down the road."

"That's a possibility in any relationship," Flynn informs her. "And a lot of those relationships begin hot and heavy, but quickly fizzle out. The year the two of you spent apart probably would have done the same thing to your feelings for one another if it was going to happen. And while I admittedly don't know what you went through during that time, Ana, I do know what Christian went through, and it seemed to me his feelings for you only intensified."

When she sucks in a breath to speak, I encourage her with a squeeze of her fingers. "It was the same for me; it's more than that, though," she says quietly. "From our first meeting, he's given up so much for me, broken all of his carefully constructed rules in order to be with me, and I don't know what it is I'm contributing."

Flynn and I both look at her in surprise. How can she possibly not know what she gives me my merely being in my life? She makes me want to be a better man for both her and our son; without her, there would be no point. "You gave me my son," I tell her quietly, turning to face her. She looks at me almost as though she's forgotten I'm here. "You gave me the opportunity to be happy—truly happy—for the first time in my life. Every day I wake up and see you sleeping beside me, I know what the purpose of my life is. I never had that before, Ana. I worked all my life to avoid anything that might hurt me—emotionally, I mean." I pause, rolling my eyes at her skeptical raised eyebrow. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Flynn trying to hide a smile. "But with you, I can't help lowering all my defenses, opening myself up to whatever could possibly happen. Even if it hurts, I wouldn't give up a second of being with you and Caleb."

She's staring at me with wide, tearful eyes, and I'm tempted to pull her into my arms right now, but I'm all too aware that Flynn is watching us closely. "Since Christian shared your fears, Ana, why don't you take a stab of what you think his might be?"

And this is where the panic sets in. Not because I think Ana knows what I'm most afraid of, but because I don't want her to have to think about any of that shit. It's bad enough I've had to tell her; I wish she didn't have to linger on it. "Well," she begins slowly, frowning as she thinks, "for the most part, I think his fears are similar to mine—he's afraid I'll find someone better, more deserving of love and I'll take Caleb and leave. He's afraid of hurting me or ruining my innocence with his darkness. And he's worried that he'll be a terrible father and end up damaging Caleb if he's not very careful."

Flynn looks mildly impressed that Ana has so accurately described my fears. "I told her everything," I say to Flynn.

"Really?" he responds with interest. I realize I haven't mentioned that part of it to him.

I nod. "Everything," I confirm, glancing at Ana briefly. "I thought she'd run once she knew why I had such a specific type that I look for in a woman. I was certain of it."

"And what did you think when he told you, Ana?" Flynn asks.

"I was surprised," she answers. "A little confused; worried that I couldn't give him what he clearly needed." She hesitates again, looking as though she wants to say something, but she's afraid of my reaction.

"Go on," I urge softly.

She swallows hard, shaking her head minutely. "It was a little disturbing at first, particularly when I started imagining what it meant."

"And what did you imagine?" Flynn asks.

"I was making connections between what he was doing to these women and his mother," she admits, flushing deeply.

"Ah," Flynn says, again hiding a smile. I roll my eyes at him. We've had this discussion before. "Well, let me elaborate a little on that. It's understandable that one would come to those same conclusions, but I can assure you, Christian in no way feels any attraction towards his birthmother. The lifestyle he was introduced to as a teenager allowed him an outlet for his fears and frustrations, and his abandonment issues. The fact that the women he was involved shared a likeness to the woman who gave birth to him isn't as odd as it might seem. A lot of times, men are attracted to women who remind them of their mothers, but never do they develop romantic or sexual feelings towards their mothers. In Christian's case, he has, in the past, found that punishing women who have consensually agreed to their arrangement was the only way to punish his mother. Apart from that, he's a typical red-blooded male with a very active libido."

I cannot believe this is the conversation we're having right now... And judging by the look on her face, neither can Ana.

"So wouldn't he still need that outlet?" she presses.

"Until he met you, yes," Flynn says simply. "Ana, last year when Christian first told me about you, I could hardly believe my ears. The effect you had on him—that you continue to have on him—is one a lifetime of therapy probably couldn't provide. I very much enjoyed seeing him flustered and confused when he spoke of you and I knew from the beginning you are the one thing he's been waiting a lifetime for. When you left, he was a broken man, just as I'm sure you were just as broken. It took him months to admit why he was taking your leaving so hard, why he couldn't just move on from you and live his life. Christian fell in love and he continued to fall during your absence. Now that you're back, all he needs is you. His old life, the one he had before you, is nothing compared to the one you're giving him now—one where he has the love of a beautiful woman and is facing his fear of fatherhood."

I'm starting to think I'm not paying John Flynn nearly enough. He's just explained something to Ana that I would have stumbled through and ended up frustrated when I was unable to get my meaning across. I've been too afraid of driving her away to think of a proper way to explain things, but I think she understands now. Or she's beginning to.

By the end of our session, both of us seem lighter and I'm pleased with the result. Naturally, Flynn suggests we come back together soon and I take a few seconds to give him shit about how he only wants to increase the fee I already pay him.

Finally, we're headed down to the car, though neither Ana nor I have said anything since leaving the office. "How was that?" I ask her anxiously when I open her door.

She thinks for a moment, then looks at me and I see her answer in her eyes. "It was good," she says shyly. "I was nervous, but I'm glad we went."

I smile, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips. "So am I," I whisper. "Now, I have another surprise for you." Her eyebrows shoot up questioningly. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course," she answers immediately, though she's looking at me warily.

I reach into my back pocket and remove the blindfold I brought with me. "This is a crucial tool to the surprise," I explain to her, holding up the item in my hand. Her eyes darken and I might be worried that I'm frightening her if not for my recognition of her desire. _All in good time, baby,_ I silently promise as I slide the blindfold over her eyes. "You won't have to wear this for long, I promise."

"Okay," she whispers nervously, looking so adorable that I have to kiss her again as I buckle her in.

On my way to the other side of the car, I try to imagine her reaction to what I'm about to show her. I can't wait to see her eyes light up in delight or look at me as though she's never seen anything like it. Which I know she hasn't. And then, once we get past the initial surprise, there's one more, one that I'm desperate to know the answer to and uncertain how I'll handle it if we're on separate pages again.


	24. Chapter 24

Having a blindfold over your eyes forces your other senses to compensate for the lack of vision. It's a proven, scientific fact. Your nose picks up scents it wouldn't normally smell; your ears hear things you wouldn't hear otherwise; your skin is hypersensitive to even the slightest touch. Christian proved this last one at least a dozen times since we left Dr. Flynn's office, chuckling every time he ran a finger across the back of my hand and I jumped. I've been trying to work out where we are and where we're going, but as I haven't lived in Seattle nearly long enough to get my bearings, I finally realize I need to just be patient and wait for whatever it is Christian has in store for me.

"We're here," he says softly as he puts the car into park. "Are you ready?"

"What if I said no?" I ask.

"I'd say that's too bad," he teases. "Wait here." I listen as his door opens and a moment later mine does as well and I feel Christian's firm grip on my hand as he helps me out of the car. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, guiding me forward. "Step up, baby." I do as I'm told, still trying to work out my surroundings when I hear a set of elevator doors open. Once we're inside, Christian releases me for a moment to quietly exchange words with another person and I suddenly feel foolish standing here at God knows where wearing a blindfold. When he returns, his arms wrap around me and he nuzzles through my hair to reach my neck, pressing his lips to the skin he discovers. "You're nervous."

"Anxious," I correct him, relaxing into his chest. "Surprises aren't normally my thing, but if it's something you came up with, it will be good."

"You have such faith in me, Miss Steele," he murmurs. "And yes, I very much hope this will be a good surprise."

For the first time since the evening he met Caleb, I hear nervousness in Christian Grey's voice and while I've only been with him a short time, I figured out long ago he doesn't do nervous. "Are you going to tell me where we are?"

"Soon," he promises.

We've been in this elevator for what seems like forever when we finally come to a stop and Christian guides me out gently. I feel a cool breeze and I can smell flowers, lots of them. Soft music is playing around us. We stop and I feel Christian move to stand in front of me, his fingers gently trailing down my cheek.

"Are you ready, Ana?" he asks, and now I really know he's nervous. His voice is unsteady and his hands shaking as he lifts them to my blindfold.

"Yes," I whisper.

With a shuddering breath, he removes the blindfold and I take in my surroundings, relieved the lit is so dim here that I'm not blinded. But of course Christian will have thought of this. I see his eager, anxious face as I look around. Just about every free surface is covered with beautiful, fragrant flowers and the only light in the room are from tiny, soft stringed bulbs, and unless I'm very much mistaken, wherever we are, we seem to be gently revolving.

"Where are we?" I ask again, trying to acclimate to everything around me.

"Top of the Space Needle," Christian says quietly, taking my hand and leading me to the railing overlooking Seattle.

It literally takes my breath away and he wraps his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my head so we can soak in the view. "It's beautiful," I whisper.

"It is."

I glance up to find Christian watching me avidly, looking pleased at my reaction. "Are we alone here?"

He scoffs. "We fucking well better be," he grumbles—mostly playfully, I think. "I paid enough to ensure our privacy."

I turn in his arms. "You rented the Space Needle?" I ask incredulously.

"Ana, of all the things we've done, this is the thing that most surprises you?" he asks in return, smirking.

Rather than respond, I turn back to the view. "This is wonderful, Christian," I inform him, resting my head against his shoulder. "Thank you."

"Oh, we haven't even gotten things started, baby," he promises, turning me around to face him. "Ana, I heard what you said tonight in Flynn's office, about how you believe you haven't contributed anything to our relationship. And I know you heard me when I told you how wrong you are in that belief. But what I don't think you heard is just how badly I need you in my life. Never before have I thought I would even want this, but now that I have it, I can't ever imagine giving it up. I want _more_, though." He pauses and we both smile for a moment at the word that changed both our lives. "I want everything. And I'll do anything for it. That's why, even though I once told you I don't do hearts and flowers, I've brought you here.

"Ana, you've had my heart since the day you fell into my office and looked up at me with those big blue eyes of yours. And here are the flowers—a little late, I know, but that can't be helped. I'm done living in the past; I only want to look into the future. So that's why..." I gasp, my hands flying to my mouth as he drops down to one knee, taking something from his pocket and looking up at me as though I hold his future in my hands. "Anastasia, I will love you for the rest of my life. I know I'm not perfect, but with you at my side, I feel myself improving a little more each day. I want to spend my life making you happy and I will never give up on us, because you are my more and I want to be yours. Will you marry me, Ana?"

The look on his face is so hopeful that I know a negative answer to his question would crush him completely. I try to find the breath to answer, try to still the flood of tears pouring down my cheeks, but I can't manage either. Unable to do anything else, I lower myself to my knees so I'm at eye level with him. More time must have passed than I thought; I can see disappointment marring his expression along with hurt. "Yes," I manage to choke out through the emotions lodged in my throat. "Yes, Christian, of course I will marry you."

For a moment, he just stares at me as though he's not sure if he heard me right; in the next, he holds me against him so tightly I almost can't breathe and he's murmuring words into my ear. He pulls away from me enough so I can see the relief and love and happiness in his eyes, and then he's kissing me as though his life depends on it. My fingers are twisted in his hair, holding him against me. We're both crying when he lowers me onto my back, careful with my arm, and he settles against me. The next several minutes are spent with our hands exploring every inch of each other we can reach, but the realization of where we are begins to nudge its way through to us.

Christian rolls to lie beside me, a sheepish smile on his face. "If I'd really thought this through, we'd be someplace with absolute privacy," he grumbles mostly playfully.

I giggle. "Well, I do like this place," I tell him. He climbs to his feet, reaching down to help me up. "A lot."

"I'm very glad to hear that, Miss Steele," he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to my lips. "Shall we carry on with the evening's plans?"

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "There's more?" I ask.

He laughs. "There will always be more with you, Anastasia," he says, eyes laughing at me. "But I arranged for us to have dinner up here, maybe a bit of dancing if you're up to it. And afterwards..." His gaze turns into a leer. "There is a section of the Space Needle that most people don't know even exists, one that houses a hotel suite like one you've never seen, and I thought we could spend our night there."

I notice he didn't say anything about sleeping... "I'd like that," I say shyly.

"Good," he murmurs, holding out a hand. "Come, we should eat."

* * *

This night is surreal. It has to be a dream; there is no other explanation. After everything that has happened, everything we've been through in just a matter of weeks, here I sit across from Ana enjoying a candlelight dinner at the top of the fucking Space Needle after she's agreed to become my wife. The odds have been against us from the beginning and that doesn't even count the things we've done that have led to what should have been permanent separation. Yet here we are.

Anastasia, my fiancée—I fucking love that word, though I suspect I'll love _wife_ even more—is beautifully flushed following my surprise proposal and me practically tackling her to the ground. I would have happily taken things further with her, but I didn't want to risk one of the waiters arriving to check if everything was all right when they didn't receive my preapproved signal to bring our dinner. There will be time enough for all of that later—the rest of our lives, actually.

Right now, as our main courses arrive, I find Ana staring at the ring on her left hand in awe. "Do you like it?" I ask softly, reaching over to refill her drink. Ideally, we'd be celebrating with wine, but as Ana is still breastfeeding Caleb, we've decided to skip that aspect. "If not, we can return it and pick out something you do."

She looks at me sharply and I see her pulling her hand back as though she's protecting the ring. "I love it," she says emphatically. "It's a little bigger than I would have thought I'd like, but it's perfect, Christian."

I know she means that. Her emotions are normally on display for everyone to see and she makes a pretty shit liar. I smile happily at her. "Good," I say softly, reaching for her hand, twisting her ring on her finger to see the light from the candle dancing off it. "Now there will be no doubt in anybody's mind that you are mine, Ana Steele." It suddenly occurs to me I'll only have to call her Steele for a little while longer, and then she will be Mrs. Grey. Yes, I really fucking love that. And speaking of name changes... "This may or may not be the appropriate time to bring this up, but there is something I wanted to talk to you about."

Her eyes are wary as she meets my gaze. "Oh?"

I nod. "Yes." I take a moment to work out what I want to say. "Caleb's name." Realization dawns on her, but for once I can't tell how she feels about the subject. "Caleb Andrew. Why'd you pick that name?"

She shrugs, pulling her hand from mine to sip her drink. "I always liked the name Caleb," she begins quietly, "and Andrew is..."

"Your father," I finish when she trails off.

"How'd you—" She starts; almost immediately she rolls her eyes at herself, obviously working out that there isn't much I don't know about her at this point. "Yes, I named him after my biological father. I considered calling him Raymond, but it didn't really fit. And he had Steele as his last name, so there was that connection to Ray." She hesitates. "I've started the process of putting you on his birth certificate and getting his named changed to Grey—if that's okay with you."

I stare at her in shock. So both of us has begun that process without mentioning it to the other. God, I love this woman. "That is more than okay with me," I assure her. "That's what I was getting at, actually."

She smiles shyly. "Okay, then," she says. "So we'll all be Greys."

"I can't wait," I say honestly, already tempted to grab her and take her to Vegas so I don't have to pretend I have patience in this matter.

For the rest of our meal, we talk, laugh, and tease, and I'm still in absolute shock that we're here at all. Six months ago, all I wanted was to have Ana back in my arms so I could beg for a second chance with her; I never imagined I'd become a father and a husband. Change doesn't always suit me well; more often than not, I prefer to keep things exactly as they are. It's easier to control all the elements in my life that way. But this is perfect. Beyond perfect.

"You seem to have a thing for heights, Mr. Grey," Ana teases as we look at the revolving view of Seattle. "Your penthouse in the clouds; soaring... Now this."

I grin into her hair, having pulled her into my lap the moment we finished dessert because I couldn't stand the distance any longer. "It's very fitting, Anastasia," I muse. "Since you bring me to new heights every day that you're at my side."

She turns to look at me, smiling. "That's either very sweet or very corny."

Laughing, I hold her against me tighter. "If you don't mind, I'd prefer we go with the former."

"If you insist."

"Oh I do insist." I nuzzle my way through her hair to get access to the soft skin of her neck. "With you, I will insist every time."

The suggestive tone I put into my words has her squirming in my lap—causing both delight at myself and discomfort at the immediate hard-on.

"I want to dance with you," I whisper into her ear.

Smiling, she nods, sliding off me. Standing, I take her hands, pressing a button on one of the railings to turn up the music a little, then pull her into my arms. How have I managed to live without her? I've asked myself this question dozens of times since she came back to me and the only answer I've come up with is that I wasn't living. Not really. I was operating purely on routine, never seeing the rest of the world, never enjoying the things I've enjoyed previously. At this moment, I don't think I could be happier if I tried. I know one session with Flynn hasn't solved our problems—we both have a tendency to hold back, only opening up when prompted by a third-party, and until we can get past that, our lives will continue to be turbulent. It was a good start, though, and I realized we each understand what the other has been feeling when before, I wasn't sure she did get my fears and concerns. And she's right; our fears are similar and as long as we can keep the channels of communication open, I don't see how we can fail.

* * *

Despite hardly sleeping last night, Christian and I are up and showered on time to make it to the brunch he arranged with Kate, Elliot, Grace, and Carrick. Mia and Ethan have a previous engagement, so they won't be present. And that's fine; I'm still in shock over Christian's surprise proposal and I'm not sure I could handle Mia's exuberance right now. I love how eager Christian is to leave our room so we can see Caleb. I don't think I'll ever get used to how easily he's transitioned into fatherhood and part of me desperately hopes I don't. Just as I desperately hope I never get used to the way Christian looks at me when we step into an elevator like he wants nothing more than to press me against the wall even though there are people with us and we're not even touching.

The restaurant is right on the Sound, not far from where we had breakfast the morning of the bachelor and bachelorette parties for Elliot and Kate. I blink several times when I realize Christian and I will be planning our own parties soon, along with our wedding. Luckily, I got enough experience with helping with Kate's to know what things I can skip in order to fight off the stress she went through at times.

Almost the moment we enter the restaurant, Christian growls under his breath, taking his phone from his pocket and glancing at the display. "It's work," he says in annoyance. "I have to take it; I'll only be a minute."

"It's fine," I assure him, following the hostess towards the back of the building where a private room has been reserved for us. It's a corner room with full windows facing the water on two sides of it. And it's a lovely, uninterrupted view that has me captivated. It reminds me of the house Christian showed me—the one I suspect he's already bought—and the amazing view it has. I always wanted to live near water, but didn't think I would have the opportunity. I'm finding several opportunities are arising as a result of being with Christian; I'm looking forward to the next one.

"Ana?"

I spin around in surprise, finding Joe leaning against the door. "Joe," I say, glancing over his shoulder and wondering if Christian is about to return. I have feeling my overprotective fiancé will come charging in and tackle Joe to the ground. That is something that would undoubtedly put a damper on our brunch. "What are you doing here?"

Joe takes a few steps into the room and I find myself backing into the window. "I'm here with the team," he explains. "We're catching a flight back to Savannah this afternoon and heard this place had decent food. A little upscale for us, but so far so good."

"Oh."

"Ana," he sighs, still approaching me. "What the hell is going on?"

The confusion on my face is genuine. "What are you talking about?" I ask cluelessly.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about. You spent a year telling me you and Grey weren't right for each other and that you and Caleb would be better off without him because you didn't think he had it in him to be a father," Joe explains. "Then all of a sudden, he's hanging around you two, and now you've dropped everything to be with him. And look at you," he gestures at my arm. "Barely a week since you left and you're getting hurt."

I run my not broken left hand through my hair, not feeling even slightly inclination to explain my decisions to Joe. His eyes immediately catch sight of the engagement ring I'm wearing.

"What the fuck," he breathes, eyes wide and panicky. "Ana, please don't tell me that's what it looks like!"

"It's an engagement ring," I tell him slowly, startled at his reaction. "Christian proposed last night and I said yes."

"Ana, you can't marry that guy!" he whispers loudly. "You have no idea what you're doing!"

"Excuse me!" I exclaim, feeling offended and defensive of Christian. "You don't get to tell me that, Joe. It's none of your business."

He only glares at me. "Ana, you don't know the guy," he says fervently, crossing the room until there is only about five feet between us. Unfortunately, the window behind me doesn't open for me to get further away from him. I slide away, turning until my back is at the door. "I've been looking into him. He's really bad news."

"You don't know what you're talking about," I snap. "Of course I know him!"

"What do you know? You said yourself you two were only together a few weeks before you left Seattle—that's not nearly enough time to really know someone," he argues. "He'll hurt you. He's done it to other women. He beats the shit out of them, then pays them off with cars and clothes and money so they don't go to the cops."

I actually stumble slightly even though I'm standing still. "You don't know what you're talking about," I repeat, feeling air rushing through my ears. There is no way Joe can know about any of this, is there? "Christian would never—"

Joe's eyes widen suddenly. "Holy shit," he breathes. "He's done it to you." He shoves his hands through his hair. "Is that what really happened to you, Ana? You pissed him off so he beat the shit out of you and broke your arm? You can tell me; I'll help you. Just say the word."

I stare at him as though he's got two heads. Is he really suggesting Christian did this to me? Well, not so much suggesting as flat out accusing. "Who do you think you are?" I ask him incredulously. "Christian would _never _hurt me!"

_Not anymore at least. Last year that's exactly what he wanted. _

"Ana," Joe says softly, reaching out for my hand. I quickly yank it away from him. "You don't have to be afraid."

I'm shaking and near tears, though whether those are tears of anger or hurt at the way Joe is speaking about Christian, I'm not sure. For now, I'm going with anger. "I left him," I say quietly. "And I went to Savannah, but that was my choice, my mistake. I was wrong not to tell Christian about my pregnancy. I took the chance for him to share in the beginning of his son's life away from him. My insecurities are the reason I fled, not because of him. He loves me, he loves our son and we love him. You know nothing about him. He would rather die than to ever hurt either of us. Christian is the man that I love. He's the only man I have ever loved. The only man I _will ever love_. You need to leave now, Joe; we're done here." I've been slowly backing away from Joe, but I stop suddenly when I feel the warmth of Christian's body behind me and I'm both relieved and nervous about what's going to happen now. How much did he hear?

"You keep your fucking hands off her," he growls, sliding a possessive arm around my waist.

Joe glares at him with what I can only describe as disgust. "Why? You gonna beat the shit out of her if she talks to me? I know what you are, Grey. I know what you do."

"You don't know a fucking thing about me," Christian responds, his tone threatening. "Walk away, Battaglia, and stay the fuck away from my family."

Joe laughs. "Your family! You mean the family you never bothered to learn about in a whole fucking year? You were too busy with your fucking business and all those women to acknowledge that Ana was raising your child on her own—struggling at times because she wasn't sure she could manage. Where the fuck were you when your family needed you, Grey? And why are you suddenly interested in being around now? Run out of women in Seattle to destroy so you have to come after Ana?"

"Christian, no!" I shout when his arm disappears from me and he pushes me aside to launch himself at Joe. Joe was clearly expecting that reaction; he lands a punch to Christian's jaw that only seems to piss Christian off even more. "Stop!" Neither of them hears me and before I can rush out to find someone to help, Elliot and Taylor arrive. Taylor wrestles Christian back, apparently very practiced in the technique while Elliot yanks Joe away.

"What the fuck!" Elliot asks, looking between the angry, panting men.

"Ask him," Joe spats. "That fucking temper of his—no wonder Ana's so afraid of him!"

Elliot looks as though he might actually laugh at the possibility that I'm afraid of Christian, but manages to hold off. "Okay, this is over," Elliot decides, waiting for Taylor to pull Christian away from the door so he can guide Joe out. Christian struggles against the hold on him as Joe passes him with a smirk.

"Ana, when you finally come to your senses and leave this abusive asshole, you know where to find me," Joe throws over his shoulder.

"Fuck you, Joe," I whisper, shaking my head. "Just leave."

With Elliot and Joe gone, Christian starts to relax, though Taylor still holds onto him. Christian shrugs him off. "I'm fine," he bites, turning to me. I watch the anger and hurt in his eyes fade when he meets my gaze. "Are you okay?"

I nod, glancing at Taylor. "Could you give us a moment?" I ask.

Taylor hesitates, trying to determine if Christian really is calm, but finally leaves us.

"Christian, I never told him anything about you," I say emphatically. "Not like that anyway."

"I know," he says bleakly, leaning against the wall. "I know you didn't, Ana. Doesn't mean he's not right."

I frown. "How can you even say that?" I demand. "You've never done anything to me that wasn't consensual. Ever."

"Perhaps not, but I have hurt you," he argues stubbornly. "That's why you left in the first place, isn't it? Because I hurt you and you were afraid of me?"

Is that why? I think back to that day, to every feeling I had towards Christian and myself. I was surprised and disappointed. And I was hurt, but even then I think what hurt most was my sudden realization that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't be what he needed. I could never go through what I did that day with him again. I was never afraid of him, though, and I think anyone would have understood if I had been. He may have hit me with that belt, but I gave permission and never once used the safe words he gave me at the very beginning of our unofficial arrangement. What happened that day was as much my fault as his, though probably more mine, if I'm being fair.

I start to tell him all this, but Elliot burst back into the room, looking between Christian and me uncertainly. The expression in his eyes tells me he heard everything Joe had to say to me, that Joe probably warned him about Christian as well. Christian looks at his older brother and I see his impassivity slip slightly; he sees the doubt in Elliot's eyes, too, and he thinks he's about to be seen for the man he believes himself to be—the dark, undeserving man who does nothing but hurt those around him. Elliot breaks their stare first.

"Mom and Dad are here with Caleb," he says soberly. "Kate's with them, but they should be along soon."

"Thanks, Elliot," I say quietly. Kate is probably distracting Carrick and Grace from the incident in here.

It never fails to amaze me that in one moment, I've never been happier, but in the next, am struggling to find that again. Christian is on the other side of the room, hands fisted at his sides as he stares out the window. I move to stand beside him, noting his already bruising jaw where Joe hit him.

"Are you okay?" I ask him quietly.

He doesn't move, doesn't react, and for a moment, I wonder if he's even heard me. "My jaw doesn't hurt," he finally says.

"I wasn't asking about your jaw," I clarify. "I was asking if you're okay."

Desolate gray eyes dart down to me as he thinks about my question. "No," he whispers. "Anastasia, I am far from okay."

The only thing I can think to do is force myself between him and the window, sliding my arms around his waist and resting my head against his chest. His heart is pounding, though I'm not sure if it's an aftereffect of the fight or his reaction to being touched. I don't pull away, needing him to know that I love him and that I'm not afraid of him. I inwardly sigh in relief when I feel his arms band around my shoulders and his cheek rest on my hair. "I know you, Christian Grey," I breathe. "I know exactly who and what you are. I love every detail about you, even the bad ones, because it all makes you you. I'm not afraid of you and I never have been."

He huffs in disbelief.

"I've been intimidated," I amend. "But that isn't the same thing as fear. I don't know how Joe knows anything about you or us, but I can tell you he is wrong."

I know he doesn't believe me, that it's going to take time to convince him, but unfortunately, our time is up for now. Elliot makes a show of things when Grace, Carrick, and Caleb enter the room, possibly to give Christian and me a moment to get ourselves together. Christian takes a deep breath, kisses my head, and drops his arms from me. He turns and I'm amazed at the way he can hide everything and switch back to the happy newly-engaged man he was when we first arrived. When he picks up Caleb, the smile on his face is genuine.

"Christian, your face!" Grace gasps.

"He got out of line," Elliot boasts, grinning widely. "Had to put him back in his place—you know, remind him of the pecking order around here."

Whether Grace and Carrick actually believe that, I don't know, but I'm grateful Elliot has managed to neatly sidestep the issue. Apparently Christian isn't the only Grey who has the ability to hide his emotions behind a carefully constructed mask. Kate enters a moment later, making a beeline for me. "What the hell?" she whispers.

"Not now," I say tightly. "Please, not now."

She searches my expression as though trying to find some hidden truth behind what Joe said. "You're okay?" she checks.

"Yes," I answer, knowing she's referring to much more than just this moment.

Kate sighs. "Okay," she says resignedly, glancing at my left hand. "I want details."

For the first time since arriving, I smile, allowing her to drag me to the table where everyone is waiting. This isn't how I pictured today happening, but it's a relief to realize Joe hasn't completely ruined the day. At some point, Christian and I will have to revisit all this; I only hope that until we do he doesn't over think and do something we'll both regret.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N:** Apologies for the delayed updates as of late. I fractured my wrist and that makes it a bit difficult to get chapters out in a timely manner. Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, and sent private messages! It's all much appreciated!

* * *

By the time Ana, Caleb, and I get into the car to go home, the high of our engagement has dimmed considerably. From day fucking one I hated Joe Battaglia on sight. I grudgingly had to accept his and Ana's friendship, even though every time I heard his name I wanted to break something—and I would have very much preferred that something to be his face. Now, however, I really am tempted to kill the bastard. It was one thing for him to accuse me of abusing Ana, another thing for him to seemingly have inside information regarding my now former lifestyle, but it is something else entirely for him to put that look of hurt and sadness and what I think might be betrayal on her face. My only regret about the whole thing with Battaglia is that I didn't hit him harder.

This should be an amazing, joyful moment in our lives, but that fucker ruined it for her. It's not something I can just let go. Ana has been hurt enough—mostly by me—and I'll be damned if I just sit idly by and let one more thing go.

Elliot spent most of our brunch looking between Ana and me uncertainly, and his silence didn't go amiss. I lost track of how many times our mother reached over to check his temperature as though she worried that he was coming down with a cold or something. Every time, he gently shrugged her off, insisting he was fine, and a few minutes later, he turned his attention back to us. Actually, I'm a little surprised he didn't pull me aside before he and Kate left, but I suspect he believed confronting me so soon would only cause further problems. And he wouldn't be wrong. As far as I'm concerned, it's none of his fucking business. The only thing I feel compelled to straighten out with him is that I'm not some piece of shit woman beater.

And of course, this leads me to wonder how Battaglia seemed to know what he did. His information is a bit off, but it hit much closer to home than what I'm comfortable with. It never even crossed my mind to consider Ana would have told him anything; she's just not the type of person to broadcast such things, even if we were broken up at the time. She respected my privacy from the beginning; I think I might even have the NDA she signed the first time she visited Escala. It's always possible that one of my former submissives broke confidentiality just enough to make Battaglia suspicious, and that is something I will be thoroughly exploring at my earliest convenience.

A refraction of light catches my attention as we approach Escala and I glance to my right where the sun is causing Ana's ring to sparkle. I can't fight the grin growing on my face, even when I look at my girl's miserable expression as she stares out the window. There has got to be some way to salvage this for her. She'd been so happy last night and this morning—we both were—and I want to see her that way again.

Pulling into the garage below Escala, I feel the tension beginning to build again, though I know this has nothing to do with what happened at the restaurant. It's nervous energy about returning to the penthouse for the first time since the break-in and I'm feeling it just as much as Ana is right now.

I turn off the ignition when I park, though neither of us makes a move exit the car. "The penthouse is completely secure," I promise Ana. "Security in Escala has been increased and nobody is getting into this building who doesn't belong there." I hesitate only a second about whether to tell her about the other security arrangement that was installed while we were away. "In the unlikely event that there is a repeat break-in, Taylor arranged to have a safe room setup in the security office. The entrance is hidden and needs a security code to access—the only people who will have that code are you, me, Taylor, and Mrs. Jones. When the door is closed, an alarm signal will be sent to the police, me, and the entire security team."

She looks slightly overwhelmed at the information she's been given, but she nods in acknowledgment. Soon, the elevator doors are opening into the foyer and I look around for any sign that there had been any trouble. I pay my staff good money to make sure our lives run smoothly at all times and to set our minds at ease, and it looks as though they've managed my expectations perfectly.

"I'm going to put Caleb down," Ana says quietly, not waiting for my response as she starts towards the nursery.

I sigh as she walks away from me, wishing I could turn the clock back to this morning when we were still in bed together and unable to get enough of one another. I can still feel her fingers twisting in my hair, her ankles crossed around my waist, and the way her body always responds to me. Rolling my eyes at my wandering thoughts, I adjust my pants and head towards the nursery just as Ana is softly closing the door. She turns and jumps when she finds me standing behind her, apparently oblivious to her surroundings. Or she's just extra jumpy today.

"I didn't mean to scare you," I say softly, reaching for her hand. "We should talk."

The expression on her face suggests she would rather do anything than talk, particularly since she knows the subject I want to discuss is what happened at the restaurant. Regardless, she allows me to lead her back to the great room where we sit facing one another on the couch, each of us at a loss as to how to begin. Finally, she reaches up and trails her fingers softly over the bruise on my jaw, her eyes sad. "I'm so sorry," she whispers.

I frown at her. "What have you got to be sorry about?" I ask incredulously. "He's the one who should be sorry—hell, even I have reason to be sorry—but you have done nothing wrong."

"I didn't listen to you," she continues. "You didn't want me around him, I ignored that, and this happens."

"It's still not your fault," I say firmly, pulling her into my lap. "Honestly, Ana, to a point, I can even see his side of things." I press a finger to her lips to keep her from speaking. If I'm going to say this, I only want to do it once and any interruption will distract me. "He's in love with you, Anastasia; I saw it every time he looked at you. And because he's in love with you, he wants what I want—for you to be safe and happy. I don't know how he found out what he has or how much he actually knows, but if I were in his shoes and I thought you were being abused, my number one priority would be to get you away from that. He's got a lot more self-restraint than what I would have, but there it is. I'm sure as fuck not defending his actions or the things he said—I'd happily do it again if the opportunity arose. But as I said, I can see where he's coming from."

"If that was his motive, he went about it the wrong way," she replies. "Christian, I never gave him reason to believe I was afraid of you or that you're capable of hurting me."

"I know, baby," I reassure her. "I never thought you had." I hold her tighter against me, replaying the morning in my mind. "I heard what you said."

She turns slightly to meet my gaze. "Which part?" she asks softly.

"All of it," I admit with a crooked smile. "I saw him head into that room and I waited, wanting to see what he'd do if he was alone with you. If he did try something, I'd have ripped his head off, but I got distracted when you started talking about how much you love me and how you know I would rather die than hurt you or Caleb. Did you mean all that?"

"Every word," she confirms, resting her head on my shoulder.

I smile, unable to remember a time when I felt less deserving of the woman in my arms. I don't know how she does it, but anytime I seem to have doubts about whether she feels as strongly for me as I do for her, she surprises me. She defended me today against a man she considered a friend and her words floored me.

"Any idea how he knew what he did?" she asks quietly after a few minutes of silence.

Sighing, I shake my head. "No," I answer. "And I'm not sure if I'm more worried about his lack of knowledge or the fact that he knows anything about my lifestyle at all."

"What if he tries to go to the press?"

I smirk. "He won't," I say confidently. "If he tries, he'll never play baseball ever again."

She looks at me in horror and it takes me a moment to realize my words and tone suggest I'm physically threatening Battaglia.

"Not what I meant," I assure her. "I just meant there won't be a minor league or company softball league that will take him on. I'm done giving out warnings to people; I want control over my life so I can know with absolute certainty that you and Caleb are safe. I've been too soft in some aspects of my life. That changes now."

She doesn't respond, but I know she's wondering just how far those changes reach. I'm tired of spending all my time worried and afraid that something might happen to the people I love; I want us to move on from all of this bullshit and since waiting around for results hasn't solved a fucking thing, it's up to me.

If you want something done right, you'd better do it yourself.

* * *

A few days following our disastrous brunch, life seems to be calming down. Finally. I've put Joe out of my mind, rejecting his attempts to contact me via phone call, text message, and email. I haven't listened or read any of his messages—as far as I'm concerned, there is nothing he can say to fix this. There are enough problems in my relationship with Christian Grey to contend with without throwing in toxic opinions from people who don't know the entire story. From an outsider's view, I suppose I can understand how Joe may see the situation, but I have never felt threatened by Christian, not in the way Joe believes, at least, and I meant it with every fiber of my being when I said I know Christian would die before hurting us.

We were finally able to get back to the excitement of our engagement. Kate and Mia have been all over me with plans and ideas that tend to leave me rolling my eyes. Christian's view of the whole thing is that he wants me to have absolutely anything I want for our wedding, whether that means some extravagant fairy tale event Mia is insisting upon, the slightly more intimate setting presented by Kate, or Christian, Caleb, and me stealing away in the middle of the night to elope in Vegas. The latter becomes much more appealing every time I have to listen to Kate and Mia bickering over one another—neither of them sees fit to ask my opinion, insisting they know what they're doing.

Today, I've been given a reprieve in the form of a doctor's appointment. With any luck, I'll get my cast removed, but I'm not holding my breath. Afterwards, I'm planning to surprise Christian at work for lunch, and I'm actually a little nervous about it. The last time I was in Grey House was the day I interviewed Christian in Kate's stead and the meeting had been the beginning of everything. Hopefully this time I won't fall on my face when I walk into his office...

I'm not sure how much he's told his staff about his being thrust into fatherhood and I don't know whether anyone will recognize me as the young college girl from last year who clearly didn't belong in such a setting. I know what Christian will say if I voice these thoughts—I shouldn't give a shit what other people think of me or of us; the only opinions that matter are our own. But he's used to being stared at wherever he goes whereas I'm more accustomed to blending in with my surroundings and going to great lengths to not draw attention to myself.

"Miss Steele, whenever you're ready," Sawyer says briskly, entering the foyer.

I throw him a smile, picking Caleb up from his highchair at the breakfast bar, and reaching for the diaper bag. Sawyer grabs it first, ignoring my insistence that I can take it. He leads us down to the parking garage, the only sound being Caleb's babbling little voice. I haven't wanted to say anything to Christian, because I know he'll go straight into Defcon One, but I think Caleb's coming down with a cold. He's been a little crankier than he normally is in the mornings, much less likely to be pacified with my usual techniques, and his nose has been running like a fountain all morning. If it gets worse, I'll consult with Grace, then inform Christian. It's not as though Caleb has a fever; it's a simple cold, but in Christian's mind, he'll build it up and start hiring the best doctors in the world to treat his son.

As we stop at a red light, I glance out the window and realize we're right next to the building formerly known as Seattle Independent Publishing. The signage is much more subtle now with the words _Grey Publishing_ above the glass doors. I'm still not sure how I feel about Christian buying the company where I would have worked. On one hand, Christian knows no bounds when it comes to his control freakishness and stalking tendencies. The only reason he would have had to buy the company was to keep an eye on me. He would have been right there, involved in every aspect of my life and career, and I know there would have come a point that I began to lose myself, my sense of privacy and independence. It would have undoubtedly been a cause of contention between the two of us, an argument I would lose because he refuses to back down when it comes to my protection.

On the other hand, it's an incredibly sweet gesture, even if it's an over the top one, and I'm certain he's made the place profitable. A small part of me is tempted to ask whether there might still be a position for me there. As stressful as it got at times, I enjoyed working in Savannah even after Caleb was born. It helped take a bit of the monotony out of my days and I'm sure it would have the same effect here. I'm reluctant, though; I have the strangest feeling with everything going on Christian won't be immediately open and receptive to me returning to work, even if he is the owner of the company.

* * *

"Okay, Miss Steele."

I look up from where I'm dangling a set of keys in front of Caleb to make him laugh as the doctor enters the room. She smiles at the scene in front of her and goes about arranging my x-rays on a backlit board. I immediately see the difference a few weeks have made—on the left are the original x-ray of my broken arm and I wince, suddenly understanding why the damn thing has hurt so much; on the right is the x-ray taken today and it looks as though the bones have been glued together. I can only see a slight fracture from where I'm sitting.

"Everything looks good so far," the doctor said. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," I answer. "The pain is mostly gone and I've been sleeping through the night. The cast is more of an inconvenience than anything."

The doctor chuckles. "Well, the good news on that front is I think we can get rid of the plaster. We'll need to replace it with a removable brace that you should continue to wear at least until your next appointment. It should be much more comfortable for you. And have you had any major headaches or dizziness?"

We continue to discuss my recovery until a nurse arrives with a pair of electric scissors to remove my cast. It goes quickly, thankfully—Caleb is certainly not a fan of the noise—and Sawyer rises to meet us from his chair in the waiting room. Once we're loaded in the car, Sawyer glances at me through the rearview mirror. "Home, Miss Steele?"

"Actually, I thought I'd visit Christian at work," I answer. "You know, surprise him for lunch..."

I half-expect him to decline my request to go to Grey House or to tell me he'll have to call Taylor and Christian to inform them of the change in my plans, particularly after the last time my plans changed last minute and I landed myself in the hospital. What I didn't expect was to see a mischievous smirk on his face. "As you wish, ma'am," he agrees.

I beam at him and turn my attention to Caleb who is still looking miserable, though thankfully he's asleep for now. A few minutes later, Sawyer pulls up to the curb outside Grey House and immediately jumps out to rush around to the back to retrieve the stroller and helps me get Caleb settled in. "Thank you, Sawyer," I say as he runs ahead to hold open the door to the building for us.

"My pleasure, Miss Steele."

He walks me right pas the front desk, both of us ignoring the impeccably groomed blonde gaping at us in confusion. In the elevator, I quickly check my appearance, fully aware that the last time I was here I felt dreadfully out of place what with all the beautiful women Christian has employed. It occurs to me that I can't recall ever seeing a man wandering around the building. I'll have to ask Christian about that...

The elevator doors open on Christian's floor and I push Caleb's stroller out. Unlike the last time, there is nobody sitting behind the receptionist's desk. I wonder if this means Christian isn't in his office at the moment and I begin to feel disappointed until a door down the hall opens and Taylor exits, making a beeline for me, probably having seen me on the security cameras the second I entered the building.

"Miss Steele," he says. "We weren't expecting you."

"I know," I reply, smiling. "I wanted to surprise Christian."

Taylor's jaw tightens briefly and I think he might be planning his chewing out of Sawyer. "I see," he says, eyes darting towards Christian's office door.

"Is he in?" I ask uneasily, wondering why we're still standing here.

Before Taylor can take a breath to speak, the office door is yanked open and we both look over. Ice fills my veins at the sight of the person exiting. Elena Lincoln's icy gaze finds Caleb and me immediately and she hikes her purse strap further up her shoulder as she starts towards the elevators.

"Well, isn't this a surprise, Anastasia?" she simpers with her Botox smile. "Tired of your little one already? I expect it's difficult to raise a child whose father would rather work all hours of the day and night than be with him."

"Taylor!" a voice barks, causing the three of us to jump. "Please escort Ms. Lincoln off the premises and let it be known that if she steps foot here again, she will be arrested for trespassing."

The bitch troll's expression doesn't change much even with Christian's threat; she only smirks as Taylor guides her to the elevator. Even as the doors close, my gaze is focused on them as I work out my reaction to this very unwanted surprise. I wonder idly what excuse he'll have for me this time, whether he'll just shrug off any attempt at an explanation. I suddenly wish I hadn't decided to visit him unannounced.

"Ana..." His voice is soft and tentative as though he knows I'm moments away from losing it completely. I finally turn towards him and he looks back at me with anxious, wary eyes. "It's not what you think."

I clear my throat, managing to swallow down any snarky retort that could only make things worse for us. "And what is it I think?" I ask him quietly.

He sighs, running his hands through his hair, then using one to gesture at his office. "Come in," he says softly. "Please let me explain before..." Trailing off, he looks all around us as though he's trying to think of a way to phrase the rest of his sentence, then realizes he doesn't even want to think about it.

I push Caleb past him into the office, flinching when his fingers run down my good arm softly. The door closes behind us with a click and rather than facing Christian immediately, I park the stroller and sit down on the same couch where I sat during the interview. After a moment, he comes to sit in the chair beside me and I swear there is a smile of recollection on his face. "I didn't know you'd be here," he says softly, glancing between Caleb and me.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," I reply, fighting to not sound so petulant.

"It was certainly that," he murmurs.

"Why was she here, Christian?"

Again, he sighs. "Because she's spent practically every day since my birthday trying to reach me in one form or another, and I've ignored every attempt," he answers. "I've had nothing to say to her and the last thing I wanted was for her to think we could just go back to being friends after the way she treated you. For the last week or so, she seemed to have given up and I should have been more aware of things, but today when she showed up in the lobby causing a scene, I had to make a decision."

"Why not just let security show her out?"

"Because unfortunately for us, I know her and how she operates. If I had merely told security kick her out on her ass, she would have kept trying and I feared if gone unchecked, she'd try to get to me through you, and that is not a risk I'm willing to take."

I search his expression for any hint that he's lying, but I find none. The explanation actually makes sense, though I still don't understand why he had to speak with her in his office alone. "What did she want?"

"She tried to apologize for what happened on my birthday, but she was full of shit," he answers. "I don't think that woman has been sorry for a thing any day of her life. The real reason is because she wanted to know why I've pulled out of our business partnership."

This is surprising news... "You did? When?"

"The morning before I proposed. I figured if I was going to be so adamant about who you spend your time with, it's only fair that I reciprocate in some way. And honestly, the only reason I agreed to the partnership in the first place was for the sake of our friendship. In the beginning she wasn't very business savvy—she spent most of her life as a trophy wife and after she divorced, she wanted something to occupy herself and set her apart from her ex-husband. Her salons were the result of that. I helped keep an eye on things, business-wise, but aside from that, I have no interest. She didn't like that, of course, and assumed I backed out because you told me to." He smirks briefly as though it's amusing to him that I could tell him to do anything. The irony is that I could get him to do just about anything for me, but that was one thing I wouldn't insist upon—I was willing to accept a business relationship between them. Grudgingly, but it is what it is. "When I informed her the decision was mine, she went into how I've become weak and how it wouldn't be long before 'my needs' overtook my desire to play house with you and Caleb. Her words, Ana, not mine," he adds when I open my mouth indignantly. "I informed her that my life is none of her fucking business, laid out what would happen if she tried to interfere again, and told her to leave. She was barely here for twenty minutes. I never touched her, didn't allow her to touch me, and if she shows her face to me or you again, she will regret it."

I nod in acknowledgment of his words. "Joe's been trying to reach me, too," I admit.

"I'm not surprised," Christian murmurs. "Have you spoken to him?"

"No. And I'm not going to. I don't have time in my life for anybody who treats you that way or doubts us. And that includes that woman."

The look of relief on his expression when he realizes I believe him makes me smile. "I'm sorry you had to see her at all. And for the record, I would have told you about her visit when I got home tonight. I don't want secrets between us, Ana."

"Neither do I," I whisper.

He smiles, eyes widening when he glances at my arm. "Your cast is gone."

"The doctor decided my arm is healing well enough I don't need the plaster anymore," I explain. "Hopefully I can stop using this in a couple weeks."

"That's wonderful news, baby," he says. "What about everything else?"

"The CT scan was clear and the incision where they removed my punctured spleen has healed completely. My ribs are still a little tender at times, but otherwise, I'm good."

A smile slowly grows on his face. "You're better than good, Ana. You're perfect."

Blushing, I look down. "So Caleb and I thought we might take you to lunch," I blurt. "If you're not busy of course."

"I will never be too busy for you. But I think I'll be the one taking you two for lunch," he says in a playfully stern voice.

A few minutes later, we're making our way down to the lobby, Christian's arm wrapped firmly around my waist as I push Caleb's stroller. We stop outside the SUV when Christian's cell phone rings. Rolling his eyes, he gestures for me to load our son in the back while he accepts the call. "Grey," he snaps. I begin to tune out the one-sided conversation, and I would have been successful if not for Christian's rising voice.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he shouts into the phone. People walking down the sidewalk stop and stare at him, only moving on when he shoots each of them a death glare. Even Taylor hears the commotion from inside after Christian told him to stay behind while we go for lunch. He's at Christian's side in an instant and I can feel the anger radiating off my fiancé. "Why the fuck am I just being told about this?"

The longer the conversation goes on, the scarier Christian's expression becomes; I reassure myself that it's not directed at me, but I'm not looking forward to the aftermath. Once he's finished, he throws his phone through the open front window of the SUV, fisting his hair in his hands as he looks wildly around our surroundings. Taylor is suddenly on high alert and quickly ushers us into the car.

"Christian?" I whisper as Taylor pulls away from the curb. "What is it?"

"We're going home," he says shortly, though I'm not sure if this is directed at me or Taylor.

"Why?" I press.

Sighing, he hesitates a moment before looking at me. "Jack Hyde's been murdered."


	26. Chapter 26

It doesn't seem to matter that we plan out our days in an attempt to make them good; something always comes along to fuck it up. If I were the type of man to believe in signs, I'd probably say this is a sign of things to come in my relationship with Ana. A sign that we should probably put an end to things before they get any worse if I want my family to remain safe and happy. I'm the reason this is happening to us—me and my fucked up past coming yet again to bite me in the ass. I should just walk away from them and let them live their lives.

Well, fuck that. Even if I thought Ana might actually let me pull a stunt like that, I'd never be able to manage it for too long. I need her too much and I can't ensure her and our son's safety if I'm not with them.

The moment we arrived back at Escala following a very tense, silent drive from GEH, I apologized to Ana for fucking up her lunch plans, but I needed to meet with the security team to find out more about what's going on. I'd love to chalk this up to someone doing us a favor by taking Hyde out—hell, I'd love to claim I was behind it. We've got absolutely nothing to go on. Hyde was in his cell at lights out last night, still breathing, and this morning he was hanging from the ceiling. The first, logical theory was suicide, but Hyde wouldn't have been able to do it. Broken arms and ribs from the car accident would have made it nearly impossible. Murder is the only option, though nobody can quite pinpoint when or how it would have happened. The bastard was under constant surveillance, not allowed visitors, and contact with other prisoners was kept at a bare minimum.

"One of the guards?" I suggest exhaustedly as Taylor, Sawyer, and I run through all the possibilities.

"Why, though?" Taylor asks, sounding just as frustrated as I feel. "What motive would a guard have to kill the prick? I'm thinking it's more likely that his accomplice somehow did it, or if it was an inside job, paid off whatever guard arranged it."

"And of course we still have no fucking clue who the accomplice is," I growl.

Taylor shakes his head. "No, sir, we don't. We've looked into just about everybody Hyde normally socialized with along with people who might have a grudge on you." The look he gives me suggests this list is much longer than even I'm aware of. He glances at Sawyer. "Relieve Reynolds from the parking garage. We'll coordinate in thirty."

I watch with a raised eyebrow as Sawyer immediately follows Taylor's orders, though I can't figure out why he's being dismissed or way Taylor is doing the dismissing. Once the office door is closed, Taylor turns back to me with an expression I've never seen on his face—it's suspicion and anger, both directed at me. "Sir, this would be the perfect opportunity for full disclosure."

"Full disclosure of what, exactly?" I ask, leaning back in my chair.

"Mr. Grey, I'm well aware that there is no end to the means you would go to in order to protect your family. I feel the same about mine and if you had a hand in what has happened, I will stand right beside you as I always have. But in order to help you protect your family, I need to know everything."

I suddenly realize what he's asking me. "Are you suggesting I had something to do with Jack Hyde's murder?" I ask coldly.

"No, sir, I would never suggest that," Taylor asks without hesitation. "I'm just trying to gather as much information as possible."

"Taylor, I had nothing to do with this," I say honestly. "Believe me, if I were given the opportunity, I would have done it in an instant and I would feel no regret over it. I appreciate your position on this and I assure you that you would be the first to know if I'd done anything of that nature."

Taylor actually sighs in relief. "Thank you, sir. I have a few other leads to look into. The moment I have results I will report back. May I suggest that the three of you remain in Escala for the remainder of the day?"

Massaging the skin between my eyebrows in an attempt to rid myself of this fucking migraine, I nod. "That's the plan. Where's Gail?"

"On her way back from her sister's," Taylor answers. "Ryan picked her up an hour ago."

"Good." I stand. "And my extended family has been made aware of the increase in security?"

"Indeed, though there was a bit of... resistance from your sister and your sister-in-law. I expect you'll be hearing from them soon."

"I'd probably be disappointed if they just went along with things," I reply wryly. "Though t would make our live a hell of a lot easier..."

We're interrupted by a crying baby from somewhere in the apartment and as my eyes dart between Taylor and the door, I swear my head of security is smirking at me. "Something funny, Jason?" I ask, already knowing what he's so amused about.

"That's just not a sound I'd ever thought I'd hear in these walls," he says, shaking his head.

"You and me both," I say wryly. "How are the security preparations on the house?"

He nods. "Very well, sir. We should be all set by the end of the week."

"Excellent news," I say, smiling for the first time since leaving GEH. Caleb's cries grow louder, more impossible to ignore. "I should go see if I can help Ana..."

Though as I approach the nursery, I'm not sure there is a whole lot I can do considering Ana is moving around the room, rocking Caleb back and forth in an attempt to comfort him. It doesn't seem to be doing any good; his little face is bright red as he screams bloody murder. Ana turns and finds me standing just inside the door. She gives me an apologetic smile and mouths, '_sorry_'. I shrug and cross the room to them, rubbing Caleb's back. To our shock, he begins to calm down slightly. I grin proudly at Ana; she rolls her eyes.

It takes us nearly half an hour to calm our son down enough that Ana can put him in his crib. She expertly wipes his runny nose, changes his diaper, and dresses him in a nighttime onesie I recognize to be one of the many my sister has already bought for him. She takes a few moments to lean over the bars of the crib, running her hand gently across his forehead before managing to pull herself away. Gesturing for me to follow, she grabs my hand and pulls me out of the room.

"He hasn't got a temperature yet," she says, "but I hate being unable to do anything for him."

"Should I call my mother?" I ask fretfully, already taking a step towards my study where I left my phone.

Ana pulls me to a stop, smiling. "Christian, he's okay, really. Just a little uncomfortable. If it gets any worse, I'll call your mother myself."

The control freak in me wants to have the best doctors in the world on call for my son's health, but the lack of concern on Ana's face stops me. She might not be concerned for her own well being, but I know she'd never let Caleb suffer. "Okay," I say quietly, sighing resignedly as I let her lead me back out into the apartment. Since our lunch was cut short before it ever began, Ana goes around the kitchen gathering ingredients to make sub sandwiches for us to eat—she raises her eyebrows at me pointedly when she informs me of what's on the menu; I look back at her innocently from the stool at the kitchen bar. I watch her sliding around the room like she belongs here—which she does, absolutely—and I once again revel in the realization that she's mine now and forever.

When she finally drops a plate in front of me, then walks around to sit in the chair beside mine, I can feel waves of expectation rolling off her and I know it's only a matter of time before she begins asking questions that I still don't have all the answers for. And given recent events, I know she'll react better if I volunteered the information rather than making her pry it out of me.

"Taylor is still working out what exactly happened to Hyde," I begin quietly, focusing on tearing a piece of break from my sandwich. I feel Ana freeze beside me, probably in shock that I'm freely talking. "We're certain it was murder, but we don't know how it was committed. There shouldn't have been anybody who could get to him in the timeframe of his death."

"Why would anybody want to murder him?" she whispers.

I sigh, turning towards her, hating that I have to have this conversation with her. "Any number of reasons," I answer. "Maybe they worried he might start talking soon. We assumed Hyde was the mastermind in the plan, but there's every possibility he was just a disposable pawn—a scapegoat with a grudge against me." Something niggles at the back of my mind, but I can't quite pull it forward. "Either way, it's more crucial that we get to the bottom of things as soon as possible. But with our only lead now gone..." I only shrug, not wanting to finish the sentence. I think she's worked it out, though. "Anyway, security will be tight for the foreseeable. Ana, I can't have you leaving the house alone. Please promise me you won't." I desperately need her agreement and acceptance that she'll let me protect her and our son; maybe if I beg she'll be more willing to go along with what I need from her.

She nods, wide eyed. "I promise," she whispers. "As long as you promise to keep me involved with whatever is going on."

Well, if that's what it takes for her to not fight me, I suppose I can manage this one concession. "Okay," I say quietly, reaching out to pull her into a standing position so I can hold her. "I'll keep you involved. Thank you, Ana."

She nods against my shoulder. "You're welcome."

I have no idea how long we remain like this, but as I mentally run through the rest of the day, there's something else we need to discuss. I saw the expression on Ana's face when Elena left my office and it's not something I can just ignore. "You still doubt me, don't you?" I ask her softly.

She tenses in my arms, pulling away to look at me questioningly. "What do you mean?"

I sigh and release her to sit on her stool again. "Today, with Elena. The look on your face suggested you thought I'd lied to you about cutting her out of my life," I explain. "I think that's something we need to address."

Her eyes close slowly and a look of regret passes over her face. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I just..." She sighs. "I don't think it's you so much as it is my own insecurities getting the better of me. We both know I never thought I could be enough for you, Christian. I'm trying to believe that I am, but seeing her coming out of your office like that today threw me off course."

I suddenly wonder whether either of us will ever accept the fact that we're more than enough for each other. "I can understand that," I say slowly, recalling my previous thoughts regarding Ana and Joe fucking Battaglia, and how they would have made a decent couple. My blood still boils at the thought. "We'll get there. Whatever it takes, Ana, we'll get there..."

* * *

The rest of our day was spent trying to ignore everything that has happened to the best of our ability. Even still, during the down moments between watching mindless television and spending time as a family, the tension built up again. Christian was on edge, jumping at the slightest sound and snapping at anybody who interrupted us. As a result, I was on edge as well, full of nervous energy. I'm so used to Christian being in control that I can't help being worried by his obvious fear that something else may happen.

When it was finally time for us to crawl into bed, Christian tackled me to the mattress as gently as he could manage, mindful of my arm and we made love for hours, hardly speaking aside from our whispered pleas for more and dedications of love. Once we were both sated, Christian wrapped me in his arms and that's how we fell asleep.

It's the middle of the night again and I wake with the realization that I'm alone in bed. Judging by the coldness beside me, he's been gone awhile. I strain my ears for any hints of music in the apartment, but everything is quiet. My guess is Christian couldn't sleep with his mind whirring the way it was, so he's thrown himself into his work. But he needs his sleep as much as I do and as his fiancée—I grin whenever I think the word—it's my job to ensure his well-being. I slide out of bed, grabbing the t-shirt Christian tossed away in his haste to get us naked, and head out into the apartment. The study is empty and dark as is the great room where the piano sits alone. For a brief moment, I wonder if maybe he's gone out for some reason, but then I feel a breeze in the room coming through the open door leading to the patio. I find him immediately, leaning against the railing on his forearms, his legs crossed at the ankles. He's only wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and I wonder whether he's cold.

"You should be asleep," he says softly when I move stand beside him.

"So should you," I reply, grinning.

The return smile is weak at best. "Probably," he concedes. "I was for a while, but once I woke, I couldn't get comfortable again and I didn't want to wake you, too." He straightens up, tugging on my arm until I'm right against him.

"I don't think I've ever been out here at night," I say softly, resting my cheek against his heart as we take in Seattle's nighttime skyline. "It's lovely."

"It is," he agrees. "It's one of the things that sold me on the place when I was looking at apartments in the city."

I hum in acknowledgment, loving the feeling of his arms around me as he silently offers comfort, reassurance, and love. "Why do you like heights so much?" I muse out loud.

He stiffens and I pull back to look at his suddenly wary expression. "You really want to know?" he asks in a low voice.

Actually, I'm not sure I do. I'd only been teasing him, but clearly it's something much more complicated than what I'd intended. "Only if you want to tell me," I whisper, though my curiosity is piqued along with my never-ending desire to know as much about the man I love more than anything.

He shrugs. "You'd find out eventually," he murmurs, holding me against him again. "I suppose it's only fair to give you fair warning."

Now it's my turn to tense up. What bombshell is he about to drop on me now? "Should I be worried?" I ask, half-joking.

His gaze darts away from me momentarily. "I would hope not, but I can't guarantee it."

"Okay, you're scaring me," I tell him honestly. "Christian, what's wrong?"

Sighing, he moves us to sit in a lounger, me curled up on his lap. I rest my head against his collarbone while I wait for him to sort through his thoughts. "I've always loved heights for as far back as I remember. The higher, the better. I never really understood why until I was about sixteen." I really hope this doesn't have anything to do with the bitch troll... "I've got my helicopter, gliding, my office at the top of the Grey House building, and of course this apartment. Heights are so important to me because if I have the height advantage, if I'm the biggest bully on the playground, I can't be hurt again the way I was when I was small."

His voice is hard and cold, and I feel myself tearing up at the thought of him being abused as a child. He should have been loved and protected by his mother; instead, he found a lifetime of pain. Until now. Until Caleb and me. "I'm so sorry," I breathe, tightening my arms around his shoulders. "I wish I could fix it for you."

"You do, though," he replies. "Fix it, I mean. You remember the night I brought you to my room at the Heathman? The first night we spent together..." I can feel his grin against my forehead. "The next morning and several mornings following that, I told you I'd never shared my bed with anybody. I'd never slept beside another person. Part of the reason for that is my fear of being touched—I can't control what another person does when we're both asleep and I couldn't risk being touched. The other reason is that I couldn't stand the thought of anybody bearing witness to my nightmares."

"You have nightmares?" I whisper.

He nods. "As a result, I don't sleep on a normal schedule; if I'm awake, the nightmares stay away."

"What are they about?" I ask before I can stop myself.

He lets out a shuddering breath. "Memories mostly," he whispers. "I told you a little bit—about the scars on my chest and back. It was more than that, but using me as his personal ashtray was his favorite pastime. I remember running and hiding whenever our apartment door opened, but he always found me." He's shaking now and I want to tell him he doesn't have to go on; I can't find enough breath, though. "Every time I ran from him, it only ended up making things worse for me. There were times I probably needed medical attention, but the crack whore was always too wasted to do anything about it. I remember wanting to protect her when the pimp went after her or when one of his..." I can hear the curl of his lip, "_customers_ came to collect what he'd paid for. I didn't understand what they were doing to her, of course; what child would? I started hitting this one guy while he fucked her and he shoved me hard enough that I went flying into the wall—put a dent in the plaster and everything. My head hurt for days. The crack whore looked at me when I cried out in pain and I can still remember seeing her glazed eyes. She looked sad and regretful that I was hurt, but she couldn't do anything about it."

Horrifying doesn't even begin to explain his childhood. He must have been so scared and lonely...

"She died from an overdose of crack," he continues hoarsely. "I didn't know what was wrong with her—I thought she was just sick and sleeping. I gave her my favorite blanket and my toy car in an attempt to make her feel better, but it didn't do anything. The pimp found us four days after she died, kept me locked in the apartment, and called the police. When they took me to the hospital, I was dehydrated, malnourished, and some of the injuries I'd had were actually pretty severe. That night, I met Dr. Grace." I don't miss how he relaxes at the mention of his mom. "She was the only one who could handle me—I thought she was an angel." His tone takes on a childlike quality. "She and Carrick... They saved me. They brought me into their family even though I'd been so traumatized that I was basically a ticking time bomb.

"The nightmares began almost immediately after I was taken to the hospital. I'd wake up screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night and none of the nurses knew how to calm me down without touching me. Grace figured it out pretty quickly, though. Whenever I had a nightmare after my adoption, she was always right there, running her fingers through my hair and singing to me until I calmed down. As I got older, the nightmares were both better and worse—they were fewer between, but more vivid. My mind probably invented the worst aspects, but it didn't matter. When I was about ten, we went on a family vacation and I had one of my nightmares. Grace tried everything to wake me up, but she couldn't; I was too far into the nightmare. She touched my chest on accident and I struck out, hitting her with my fist. The moment it happened, I woke up and realized what I'd done. Carrick, Elliot, and Mia were all standing in the door watching us, and I remember how afraid my brother and sister were. Carrick sent them back to bed and tended to Grace. Luckily, I didn't break anything, but she had a bruise on her cheek for weeks after. I waited for them to send me away after that; I even had my things packed so they wouldn't have to deal with me anymore than they already had. Of course neither Grace nor Carrick blamed me for what happened—they knew my history better than I did at that point—but I felt guilty for it. Still do, actually. I didn't deserve their forgiveness or their love. They should have sent me away; who knows who I'd hurt next."

"Christian, it wasn't your fault," I whisper, tears streaming down my cheeks. "It was a nightmare and you'd have never hurt your mother if you were awake. I know that just like I know you'd never hurt me or Caleb."

"I'd die first," he breathes.

I don't doubt he's completely serious. We hold each other for long minutes and I can feel him relaxing. "Do you have any good memories of your... birthmother?" I ask tentatively.

He sighs. "A few, I think," he says thoughtfully. "I remember her baking a cake; I think it was for me. She let me help her stir the mix in the bowl. I was over eager and splattered it everywhere; she just laughed." He furrows his brow. "I remember her laugh. It was a lovely sound. I think she might have read to me sometimes. And she sang. She had a beautiful singing voice."

"She loved you," I say suddenly. "I know she did, Christian. She was sick and unable to care for you, but the fact that you can remember even one happy time tells me she loved you."

Christian just shakes his head, fighting against the urge to argue with.

I'm not sure why it's so important to me that I convince him he was loved as a small child, but I push the thought aside for the moment, not wanting to make things worse for him. "So these nightmares," I say. "How often do you have them?"

"It used to be every night," he answers. "The worst ones happened after particularly stressful days. I don't have them nearly as often anymore."

"Why?" I ask curiously. He smiles down at me.

"Because when you're sleeping beside me, nothing can hurt me," he says. "I sleep better with you than I have in my entire life. I'm not as scared or angry. You weave some very powerful magic, Miss Steele."

I smile. "Do I now?" I murmur. He nods. "You have the same effect on me, you know."

"I know." He stands suddenly with me in his arms, causing me to yelp in surprise. He only chuckles and takes me back to bed.

* * *

As reluctant as I am to leave this morning, I need to at least spend a few hours in the office attending to the things I've been neglecting over the past several days. The day hasn't started out on a bright note. Caleb woke before sunrise crying loudly enough for the whole of Seattle to hear him. Ana and I were both a bit cranky since we'd only fallen asleep about an hour before. I tried to convince her to stay in bend while I tend to our son and I thought she'd go back to sleep. I tried everything to comfort Caleb. His nose was dripping like a fountain, he was warmer than I would like him to be, and he was clearly one miserable little boy. It didn't help matters when he spit up all over me while I was walking around the room rocking him back and forth, and making shushing noises. The only positive was that I was shirtless at the time.

Ana came stumbling in, taking in the scene, and took Caleb from me, dispatching me to the shower while she took over with Caleb and started the coffee. Even under the shower water, I could still hear our son's screams and I suddenly realize parenting isn't always going to be baby smiles and playing. I don't know how Ana did this on her own, even if it was only for three months; I'd crack under the pressure and frustration in a matter of days. Hell, I already feel like pulling my hair out because I have no idea how to make Caleb feel better.

Somehow, though, Ana has calmed him by the time I join them in the kitchen for breakfast. He still looks miserable, but he's mercifully quiet. "Call my mother," I say to Ana as she sits beside me. Gail has taken over cooking and in minutes, we're looking at plates of pancakes and bacon. Before Ana, it wasn't a particular favorite meal of mine, but it's grown on me. "Even if you think it's only a cold, please, call Grace."

To my surprise, Ana nods. "I will," she promises. "His temperature is higher than it should be, but I don't think it's dangerous yet."

_Yet..._ I want to insist on taking Caleb to the hospital myself just to be safe, but I know Grace will take perfect care of her grandson. "Thank you," I say quietly, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

Ana is falling asleep over her breakfast as I finish mine and I'm about to pick her up and take her back to bed when Taylor enters, looking right at me. I'm really starting to hate that expression on his face... "Sir, there is a delivery at the front desk," he says briskly.

I furrow my brow. "I'm not expecting anything," I say slowly. "Ana?"

She shakes his head tiredly. "No."

I wonder if anyone else notices the tick in his jaw as he nods, turning on his heel, probably to retrieve the package and run it through a dozen or so security checks. He returns about ten minutes later carrying a small, plain cardboard box in his hand. "Came back clean," he says, handing me the box. Rather than retreating to the security office, he stands slightly behind us, waiting for me to open the box. I do so carefully, uncertain what it is I'm expecting to find.

Ana glances over as I set the open box on the bar between us. Inside is a small plush monkey that grins toothily at us. "What the fuck..." I mutter, picking it up.

Ana gasps loudly, yanking the toy from my hand. "Christian, this is Caleb's," she whispers, her eyes wide in shock and possible fear.

"You mean it looks like his?" I check.

She shakes her head. "No. It _is_ his. It's from his activity gym." She shows me the plastic hook that hangs it from the gym. "It's his favorite. Whenever he manages to get a hold of it, he stuffs it in his mouth." With trembling fingers, she turns the monkey around to show me its tail matted with dried baby drool. "I've been looking for it for a week..."

"Taylor," I say urgently.

"On it, sir," he replies, rushing out of the apartment. Clearly he's read my mind and is going to find whoever left this at the front desk. There's no writing on the box to give away the identity of the sender, but it has to be somebody who has gotten close to our son at some point—how else would they have gotten his toy?

I realize what this must mean at the same time as Ana stumbles from her stool and rushes to the great room for Caleb. Standing a little more slowly, I follow her footsteps and find her holding Caleb against her. This was a warning of some sort, meant to show me my security measures aren't as good as I want them to be. And they've now crossed a line; I'm taking this as a threat to our son. Whoever is behind this had better hope Taylor and his men find them before I do; otherwise they will regret ever being born.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N:** Millions of apologies for the delayed update. It's been a long week... Anyway, I know the chapter is short, but I wanted to get something out as soon as possible. Hopefully the next chapter will be done much more quickly. Thank you to everyone who sent PMs; sorry if I didn't get back to everyone. Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

The apartment is a whirlwind of activity and has been for hours, since the package containing Caleb's toy arrived. I'm helpless watching the entire security detail making phone calls, running in and out to follow up on whatever weak lead they may have discovered, and checking the apartment's security measures over and over again. Christian has once again decided to remain at home for the day and has spent his time following me wherever I go, making up lame excuses as to why he needs to go into whichever room I enter when I question why he won't let us out of his sight. At first, I was grateful; after our morning, I needed his comfort in whatever form he could provide. But after a while it became annoying having him on my heels with every step I took.

Luckily in the early evening we found distraction when Grace and Carrick dropped by. Christian called his mother at some point to come over to check up on Caleb, and after a quick examination, she assured us his cold really is just a cold. His temperature returned to normal during the day and unless it spikes again, we have nothing to worry about—not on that front, anyway. As much as he would have preferred it, Christian was unable to disguise his worry over this morning's events and while Gail cooked dinner, we explained as much as we could, particularly why Christian saw fit to assign security detail to his family. Carrick immediately slipped into lawyer-mode, asking about restraining orders and probable cause—he's worried the police might consider Christian a person of interest in Jack Hyde's death if they somehow work out it was murder rather than suicide. Christian isn't even the slightest bit concerned about that; he had nothing to do with it and he has airtight alibis to prove it.

The one thing we don't discuss is the arrival of Caleb's toy this morning. It's all a bit too creepy to think about and Christian and I silently agreed to keep this to ourselves, at least until we've got more information to go on. There is no reason to needlessly worry everybody else more than we've already done with recent events.

Not long after Christian's parents left, Taylor entered the apartment—he'd been out for most of the day trying to track down whoever left the package at the front desk this morning. Unfortunately, the information he was able to gather isn't much help. The person who delivered it was from a courier service and the package appeared in his stack of deliveries with a note taped to it about where to take the box. Taylor retrieved the note and brought it to us to see if either of us recognized the handwriting—we didn't.

"So we're at a dead end again," Christian says broodingly as we prepare for bed. For my peace of mind, Caleb is sleeping in our room tonight; if I wake in the middle of the night in a panic, I won't have to stumble through the apartment to get to him. Christian didn't even argue when I asked; obviously he feels the same. "You'd think it would be easy to track somebody down with modern technology and all the CCTV cameras in the area."

I don't know how to respond so I just watch him pace and wonder if we'll ever get a moment's peace. Though he hasn't said as much—not to me at least—I know receiving that toy today was a threat against our son. I've spent the entire day thinking about the meaning of it and the only conclusion I've reached is that I suddenly know exactly how Christian feels now and in the past few weeks when my and Caleb's safety has been in jeopardy. I understand the violent thoughts that go through his mind at the thought of finding the people responsible; I think right now I could joyfully rip them apart with my bare hands. A mother's instinct perhaps, the desperate need to protect my child. There are no lengths I wouldn't go to for Caleb, just as I know there is nothing Christian wouldn't do to keep us safe. I want to trust that he's got it all under control and this mess will end soon, but it's moments like this when I watch him just on the cusp of losing it completely that I realize he's just as lost and confused as I am.

"Ana, when did you last have that toy?"

Christian is standing in front of me, hands linked behind his head as he frowns. "Um," I answer, snapping from my daze. "I'm not sure. I know it came with us from Savannah, but the last time I saw it..." My eyes widen suddenly in remembrance.

"What?" Christian asks, sitting beside me on the bed.

I shake my head. "The last time I saw it was at your parents' house on your birthday," I say, suddenly certain that I'm right. "We set up Caleb's portable crib and Elliot attached the activity gym bar above it for Caleb to play with if he woke during the party."

Sighing, Christian shoves his fingers through his hair. "So if that's the last time you saw it," he says slowly, "the person who sent it to us might have been there that night."

I look at him sharply. "I can think of one person who might want to screw with us," I say tentatively, hoping this conversation won't start an argument.

He nods. "Yeah, she's already crossed my mind," he says grimly. "I'll have Taylor look into it and the rest of the party's guest list in the morning. And if it is her, she's probably trying to spook us, convince you you're not safe or some such bullshit." He glances uncertainly at me. "Lucky for me, you're far stronger than she is giving you credit for."

Without saying it, I know he's asking whether I feel safe with him despite what's happened or if I'm considering going someplace else until this blows over. "Lucky for you, indeed," I murmur, making him smirk. "So what do we do in the meantime?"

"Well," he says slowly, pulling me to lean against him, "in the meantime, we go about our lives as normally as we can. They want our daily routines to be disrupted; they want us afraid of whatever they're planning next. If we hideout here for the duration of this—however long that might be—they'll feel as though they've won and that's something I won't allow." He sighs, pressing a kiss against my forehead. "Having said that, security will remain tight for the foreseeable. There will be hourly check-ins so I know you're safe; and of course you're more than free to check up on me as well if the mood strikes you. I know it's inconvenient, but I don't know any other way to handle this situation."

"It's fine," I say quickly. "Yes, it's annoying, but I get it. And once this passes we can go back to normal."

He stares at me for several long moments as though he's trying to figure out whether I'm being sincere or not, sighing in relief when he finds whatever it is he's looking for in my eyes. "Thank you," he whispers, leaning over to kiss me. Though he probably hadn't planned on escalating the kiss into anything more, within seconds, my fingers twist in his hair and I roll, pulling him to rest his weight on top of me. Almost the moment his hands begin sliding up my stomach towards my breasts, Caleb reminds us of his presence, causing us both to grin.

"Your son, Miss Steele, certainly knows how to ruin a mood," he says in mock-annoyance.

Flopping back to his side of the bed, Christian pulls me to rest against him again and we spend a few moments listening to Caleb talking to himself—from the sound of it, he's feeling better finally... "So I suppose this all means you'll want us to stay in the apartment," I say hesitantly.

His arms tense briefly around me. "That would be my preference," he says slowly, "but I have no intention of keeping you hostage." He smirks at me. "Not this week at least..." I barely refrain from rolling my eyes at him. "Ana, so long as you follow the security team's directives at all times, you're more than free to come and go as you please." He pauses for a moment. "As long as you always come back, of course."

I smirk at him. "It'd take a hell of a lot to get rid of me, Grey," I say even as I fall asleep. I feel the chuckle rumble in his chest and his murmured "good" against my forehead, and I know no matter what happens, as long as we have this, as long as we have each other, we'll be just fine.

* * *

In the couple days following the unexpected delivery of Caleb's toy, we've all been on high alert and waiting for whatever might come next. I don't think Taylor has slept more than an hour or so a night, refusing to admit defeat in identifying the perpetrator. He's convinced the sender is the same person who helped Hyde after the accident and possibly the same person who had Hyde killed. That's a frightening enough concept—anyone who can turn tail on a friend or accomplice that easily won't hesitate to harm strangers or someone they truly despise. Enemies are something I'm familiar with. I don't have many; most of the time, business rivals eventually give up and move on when they don't get what they want. Given who I am and what I've dealt with in my life, I've only acquired a couple personal enemies, ones who want to see me fail in everything I do. Taylor and I have come up with a short list, but so far the list hasn't done us much good. Those we thought of have been thoroughly checked and ruled out as suspects—not that that will stop Taylor or his men from following up from time to time until this is sorted.

But nothing has happened. Or that's what I think as I go through my email inbox in between meetings. At first I look right past it, my eyes scanning for important names—members of my family, business associates getting back to me about developments, even my lawyer updating me about the Hyde situation and Caleb's name change. It's not until I begin to close the program that I notice the unfamiliar email address—it's a series of symbols—and the message itself contains an attachment. I begin to delete it, but curiosity gets the better of me and I run it through my virus scan instead. It turns up nothing that will compromise my computer and I trust it implicitly since Barney, my IT guy, developed it. The guy is a fucking genius when it comes to technology.

The attachment is a slideshow of photos and initially, I smile when I open it, finding myself watching Ana and Caleb. She must have sent this to me...

But the photos go from family ones I've seen before in Ana's Savannah apartment to different ones. Surveillance photos taken as recently as this morning when Ana and Caleb joined Kate and Mia for breakfast and shopping. If that isn't a disturbing enough realization, the photos were taken from close range, not from afar. Sawyer and Ryan are in the background of a few of them, looking around the area for danger and completely overlooking the photographer. There is one of Ana slipping into the lady's room at the restaurant that nearly causes me to jump from my seat, reach for my phone, and find out what the fuck is going on. But the slideshow ends with a message:

**WANT TO SAVE YOUR FAMILY? **

**LEAVE THEM.**

**ANYONE IN THE WAY WILL BE CONSIDERED COLLATERAL DAMAGE. **

**LAST WARNING, GREY. **

In the next slide is another warning about involving the police, FBI, or my security team. I take a moment to decide whether to take this seriously and if circumstances were different, I'd summon Taylor into my office immediately to track down the sender of this message. But all things considered, my first reaction is fear that only gets worse when an instant message window pops up in the corner of my screen, again containing two photographs that sets my blood boiling and scares me more than anything else in the world could: one is a close-up of Ana's engagement ring as she reaches up to tuck hair behind her ear; the second is Caleb's birth certificate. Another message is sent along with it:

**THINK CAREFULLY, GREY.**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N:** I know most of you won't like this chapter or the direction it takes, but all I can say is that it has a purpose. I'm hoping to get through this as quickly as possible with minimal damage, and I hope you guys will stick around to see it all resolved. With that in mind, I'm going to go hide beneath a rock for my own safety.

* * *

Only a few hours ago, I looked forward to coming home more than anything in the world, eager to spend time with my family. Now the sight of the elevator that will take me up to the penthouse fills me with dread. I may have convinced myself this is necessary, but I don't know if I'm strong enough to follow through. My mind returns to the email I received, the photos that had been taken from close range despite the presence of Ana and Caleb's security detail. Both messages have resonated loud and clear and I don't see another way out of this. My only hope is that she won't hate me when all is said and done.

Part of me hopes Ana and Caleb are still out for the day, shopping with Kate and Mia so I can put this off a little longer. But the moment the elevator doors open in the foyer, I hear Ana's giggle followed by Caleb's gurgle form somewhere in the apartment, and I realize luck is not on my side. Not today, anyway...

"Mr. Grey?" Taylor says from behind me. "Is everything okay, sir?"

"Of course," I reply automatically. I know he doesn't believe me, especially after I just spent nearly ten minutes down in the parking garage staring in disdain at the elevator. He noticed my odd behavior the moment I began to cancel my afternoon meetings, but hasn't yet inquired about it. "I'd like some privacy with my family for a while, but you'll probably be needed later, so stay nearby."

Before he can take a breath to respond, I'm headed in the direction of the nursery where the laughter can still be heard. For several minutes, I linger outside, soaking up my family's happiness as much as I can in case I never have the opportunity again. My heart twists in pain at the thought, but I need to keep to the plan; I know what I have to do and how I have to do it, regardless of how much I hate myself for it. And the longer I stand here, the harder it will be. I clear my throat, immediately drawing Ana's attention from her game of dangling toy keys in front of our son for his amusement. She turns to glance at me briefly with her gorgeous smile, not registering the look of devastation on my face.

"You're home early," she says, making faces at Caleb. From here, it looks as though he's sticking his tongue out at her in response—a behavior I'd be happy to blame on Kate and Mia. "Gail said she's making stroganoff for dinner. Apparently it's your favorite...?"

She trails off uncertainly, looking at me again to confirm my housekeeper's claims. I nod distractedly. "Yes, it is," I answer faintly. "One of them anyway..."

_Now or never, Grey. Putting it off will only make it worse for both of you... _

"How was your day?" Ana asks, lifting Caleb to sit in her lap and turning to face me. "You look exhausted..."

I nod. "I am," I agree. _Along with a million other things I don't want to face right now..._ "Ana, why don't you put Caleb down? There's something we need to talk about."

Her smile fades as she takes in my expression completely. "What's the matter?" she asks.

I shake my head. "Not here," I say, my voice croaky. "Please."

Without another word, she climbs to her feet rather elegantly considering she's carrying our squirming son in her arms. She joins me at the door, searching my eyes for a hint of what I'm feeling and frowns. Swallowing hard, I take her hand, mindful that the grip I have on her is tight enough to hurt her, but I can't release her. Not yet, anyway. I lead her into my office, over to the couch against the wall below the photos José took of her. If I'm looking at them during this conversation, I know I'll change my mind and right now, that isn't an option.

"Christian, what is it?" Ana asks in a whisper when I release her hand and reposition myself so I'm facing her. "Is somebody hurt?"

"No," I answer quickly. "Nobody's hurt." _At least not yet..._ I run my hands through my hair, settling on the realization that there is no easy way to get through this. "I don't know how to do this, Ana..."

"Do what?" she whispers, wide-eyed.

I sigh. "I need to say something and I need you to just listen, because I need to get this out. It's non-negotiable..." Even to my own ears I sound like I'm rambling. Ana nods in response to my request, already looking fearful. I take a deep breath, releasing it slowly before I begin to speak again.

"Ana, I can't do this anymore," I say, unable to meet her gaze. "I thought I could. I thought it's what I wanted, but I was wrong."

"Wrong about what?" she breathes, apparently unable to hold the words back. "What can't you do?"

I wave my hand, gesturing vaguely around the room. "_This_," I answer. "This whole... family thing... I never wanted it, not once in my life did I want to share my life with anybody and I fooled myself into thinking I could do it. You were an obsession from the moment I met you and when I was with you, I blindly changed just about every aspect of my life. A life I was content with, one that I had absolute control over."

"Christian, why are you saying this?" she asks, her tone bordering on pleading. "I know you don't mean it."

She reaches for my hand and I jump to my feet, needing to get away from her. I can't let her touch me until I get this out. "You don't know me," I say with a firmness I don't feel. "Ana, you don't know a fucking thing about me." She's shaking her head, forming her arguments. I'd hoped it would be easier to convince her of this, because my next tactic is going to kill us both. "Elena was right. I need more than what you can give me. I need someone who won't fight me on every little fucking thing, someone who doesn't expect me to be somebody I'm not. And now I'm dealing with threats that I can't focus on because all I can think about is your and Caleb's safety, and I can't go on like this anymore."

"What are you saying?" she asks, apparently completely unaware of the tears streaming down her face as I thoroughly break her heart.

"I'm saying we're over," I reply, vaguely impressed and disgusted with the evenness of my voice. "I don't want this life, Anastasia. I want my old life—my old, uncomplicated life."

"But you love me." The confidence in her voice almost causes me to flinch visibly. "I know you do."

I shake my head, leaning against my desk for support. "But I don't," I whisper, feeling my heart shatter with my words. "I've told you enough about my life that you should know it's not possible for me to love anybody. Whatever it is you think I feel for you, it's a lie; I thought if I convinced you that loving you is the truth, you'd be more willing to go along with my needs in the playroom. And you were naïve enough to believe everything I said about vanilla and more and love, and all that other bullshit." Before I can stop myself, some of the remorse I'm feeling leaks through; I need to give her something to hang onto. "Ana, I thought I did love you, I was wrong. You know me, you know I can't love you. Not the way you need."

God, I hate myself right now much more than I ever have before.

She looks as though I've just slapped her. "You're lying," she whispers, slowly getting to her feet. "I know you're lying to me. Why? What happened?"

_Fuck_. This is going to get even uglier; I can feel it. "Nothing happened," I lie through gritted teeth. "And I'm not lying. Only a virgin would believe a man like me could love her." This is wrong... So, so wrong... "Whatever happens, I'll always provide for our son—whatever he needs. I'll take care of him."

I watch in horror as her expression changes from confusion to hurt to anger in the blink of an eye. "Fuck you," she whispers, closing the distance between us. "Christian, I know what you're doing. What I don't know is why you're doing it. If something happened, I think I deserve to know. You don't have to hurt me to protect me."

The woman really is way too smart for her own good. "Why can't you get t through your fucking head that I don't want you?" I ask coldly. "You were nothing more than a challenge, Anastasia. One that's overstayed it's welcome."

In the next second, my cheek is on fire when she slaps me hard. It's the least of what I deserve. "Don't do this to me," she warns, her voice stronger than I thought it could be under the circumstances. "I'm telling you right now, Christian, if you do this, that's it. We're fucking done. Don't expect to slip back into my life again begging forgiveness. So think carefully: Is this really what you want?"

_NO!_ my mind shouts. Somehow I manage a nod as I rub my stinging cheek.

She studies me closely, searching for answers and the truth. Her expression closes down and she removes her engagement ring from her finger, reaching around me to place it on the desk. "Fine," she whispers. "You're making the biggest fucking mistake of your life."

I agree wholeheartedly and have to bite my tongue to keep from saying anything as she leaves the study without another word. Once her footsteps fade, my legs give out and I sink to the floor, unable to do anything else at the moment. More than anything, I want to chase after her, tell her I didn't mean even a single thing I said to her, because _of course_ I want her and Caleb, but I can't. I try to convince myself this is temporary, and it works until I recall exactly what I just said to her. And I think about what she just said to me—she won't take me back after this, I know it.

I'm frozen where I sit for several minutes, knees pulled to my chest, fingers twisted in my hair. I want to call the whole fucking thing off right now, to tell whoever is after us to do their worst, because nothing they could do to me even compares to what I feel right now. Everything I treasure is about to walk out of my life and I still don't even know who's behind it all.

But more than anything, I need Ana and Caleb to be safe. Even if I make her hate me, it won't diminish my need to protect them.

I push myself off the floor, forcing myself to walk straight past Caleb's nursery where Ana is stuffing clothes into a bag, and head for the security office. Taylor is behind the desk watching some CCTV footage. "Miss Steele and Caleb will need transportation," I say in a voice I don't recognize.

For a moment, I think Taylor might call for an ambulance when he gets a good look at me. "Mr. Grey?" he says tentatively, standing. "Are you all right?"

_I'll never be all right again if this doesn't work out..._ "Get the car ready, please. Take them wherever they wish to go."

I've never seen my head of security so confused in all the time he's worked for me, but I can't stand the thought of giving him anything more than that right now. Ana has moved into our bedroom and is going through the closet for her things. I find she's left Caleb in his crib for the time being, so I take the opportunity to see him for what might be the last time. I lean over the bars and find my son grinning up at me and I can't help but return the smile despite everything I'm feeling right now.

"Everything will be fine," I whisper to him, reaching down to smooth his hair. It's starting to stick up exactly like mine does. Every day I find something new about him that reminds me of Ana or myself and I hate the thought that I'll be without that for who the fuck knows how long. "I wish you could understand. Hell, I wish I could understand. But right now it has to be this way. It won't be forever, Caleb, I promise. I'll come for you and your mother as soon as I can, and we'll be together again. I love you both so much and I'm sorry it has to be like this; if your mom ever forgives me, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to her. You'll be safe, though, and right now that's what matters."

I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly as I will the stinging in my eyes to stop when Caleb reaches out and grabs one of my fingers, holding it tightly in his little fist. "My days are going to be miserable without the two of you and I will think of you every second. I'm doing this for us, son. Everything I do is for you. Somehow I'll prove that to your mom and if I can't, I'll do whatever it takes to keep you both safe and happy, because you deserve every happiness in the world." I feel my throat closing up around the emotion lodged in there; if I go on anymore, I'll end up curled up on the floor, sobbing, and that is the last thing I want Ana to walk in on right now. I lean over the crib bars again and press my lips to my son's head. "I love you, Caleb. If you remember nothing else, please remember that."

Forcing myself to leave the room, I head into the great room, leaning against the back of the couch to wait for Ana. It's last year all over again—waiting for her to walk out of my life, leaving me in that perpetual darkness of purgatory that I'd found myself in when she went. I try to remind myself it's not forever, that I'll get her back, so there's an end in sight. When I finally see her enter the room, I try to block out the dried tear tracks on her cheeks. Ignoring my presence as much as she can, she sets Caleb's car seat and her luggage down by the foyer door where Taylor is waiting as unobtrusively as he can manage.

"Will you at least tell me where you're going?" I ask hoarsely when she turns in my general direction.

"I think you've lost your right to have me tell you anything," she says flatly.

I wince, but sure as hell can't argue. "Ana, please," I plead, trying to think of anything I might have leverage on right now. Caleb kicks a leg out, drawing my attention. "I need to know my son is safe." Anger and hurt flashes in her eyes; I swallow hard. "I need to know you're both safe, Ana."

She studies me intently just as she did in my office when she was trying to work things out in her own mind. "Last chance, Christian," she whispers. "The truth. Please."

Biting my tongue again, I force myself to look away from her, and apparently that's enough answer for her.

She sighs heavily. "Caleb and I will be fine," she says coldly. "I'll make sure Ray's got his shotgun ready should you decide to show up. He can protect us. Seems to me the only thing we need protecting from is you and all your bullshit."

Well, she isn't wrong... I try to think of something else to say, something to keep her here for just a minute longer, but when the elevator doors begin to shut, I know it's too late, and I hold her gaze for as long as I can—long enough to see her shoulders drop in absolute defeat. "I'm so sorry, Ana," I whisper after the doors shut.

I take a moment to grieve what I'm losing, then spring into action, taking my cell phone from my pocket and searching for a phone number, cursing when it takes more than two rings for him to answer.

"Hello," he says gruffly, probably having no idea who is calling him. I realize suddenly Ana never gave me this number; I found it on my own in case of emergency.

"Mr. Steele," I say in the strongest voice I can muster at the moment. "Christian Grey. I need your help."

* * *

As Taylor drives us further and further from Escala, everything that has just happened begins to hit all at once. Caleb is oblivious in his car seat, unaware of my inner turmoil. I'm confused and hurt and scared, and I have no idea how to fix any of this. From the moment he started speaking, I knew there was something Christian wasn't telling me and the longer it went on, the more certain I became. At this point, I'm not sure if I'm more hurt that he lied to me or because of the things he said to me. I believed him at first; he was confirming every negative thing I'd ever thought about myself. I wasn't good enough for him, wasn't enough to keep him happy in the long term. Of course he didn't want to saddle himself with a wife and kid when he could have anything else in the world he could ever want, even after all the attempts he made to convince me otherwise.

But then I say the chink in the armor. I might have believed him completely if I hadn't seen his walls crumble just a little when he talked about not loving us. He said I don't know him; he couldn't have been more wrong. He needs us just as much as we need him. I recall every time he's told me there are no lengths he wouldn't go to in order to keep us safe. I'm convinced that's exactly what this is; he needs to keep us safe and apparently that means breaking our hearts in the process. I want to call him and tell him I know what he's doing, so he'll tell me it was all an act. But despite my realization, I can't help being hurt by his words. It's one thing for him to tell me he doesn't love me; it's something else entirely to bring his former child molester into the discussion. He knew exactly what buttons to push to get me to hate him and if I somehow manage to forgive him for all of this, it's going to take time to flush his words from my mind.

"Do you know why he's doing this, Taylor?" I manage to ask halfway through our drive to Montesano.

Taylor glances at me through the rearview mirror, looking remorseful. "No, Miss Steele," he says quietly. "I don't."

I nod, having expected that answer. So whatever is happening, Christian hasn't even told Taylor. That only makes things worse. He's scared enough that he's pushing me away, but not allowing anybody else to handle the problem. And that's the trouble with Christian Grey—he's always so determined to do things on his own and he doesn't always think his behaviors through before acting. I only hope he doesn't do anything stupid.

Well, anything _else_ stupid at any rate...

When we pull into my dad's driveway, the door opens almost immediately and he steps onto the porch as though he expected us any second. Which he probably did, considering I called him as soon as I thought I could get through a conversation with him without breaking down completely. Taylor shuts off the ignition, but doesn't get out right away.

"Miss Steele. Ana," he corrects himself, turning around to hand me something. "If you need anything, please don't hesitate to call."

I take a business card from him, smiling. "Thank you," I say quietly. "You'll take care of him, won't you? Make sure he stays out of trouble?"

He gives me a small smile. "Always," he promises, getting out of the car to unload our bags.

As I take Caleb's car seat from the back, my dad reaches us and I automatically turn towards him, allowing him to pull me into a hug. This is good. This is comforting. Sometimes a girl just needs her daddy and this is one of those times. He doesn't ask for explanations, doesn't ask if I'm all right; he just holds me, gently rocking me back and forth to comfort me. After awhile, I realize Taylor has taken my bags to the porch and is standing back to give me time with Ray. When we part, I thank Taylor again, though this time I am thoroughly exhausted after this unbelievable few hours, and he leaves shortly after. I watch him go, wondering why it always ends this way for Christian and me, and if we'll ever find our happily ever after.


	29. Chapter 29

Four days have gone by since Ana and Caleb left, and I'm no closer to sorting out this fucking mess than I was before. I haven't slept, haven't eaten, haven't been able to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes, and it's taking its toll. I miss them desperately; my only connection to them is the daily phone calls to Ray to check in on them. He's been surprisingly accepting of the situation considering I broke his daughter's heart. Every time we've spoken, he tells me Ana isn't herself, that she is in almost the exact same state as I am—going through her days on autopilot. I want nothing more than to chase after her and make her feel better, but I can't. Not yet, anyway.

Ray might not know all the gritty details, but he knows enough to understand how important it is that Ana not know the whole truth until everything is sorted and he agrees that her and Caleb's safety is absolutely paramount. Though the latest threat didn't specifically say my family will be harmed even if I send them away, we're not taking chances. Two days ago, Ray convinced Ana to go out for the day so a team could come to his house to install a high-tech security system on his property. I wanted to send a security team to keep an eye on things, but Ray vetoed that; if Ana starts seeing people following her every move, she'll get suspicious. That hasn't stopped me from sending someone down to follow her when she leaves the safety of her dad's home.

What I hate almost as much as being forced to give up my family is that I know Ana will have worked things out for herself to some extent and I can't confirm or deny any of her theories. I can't reassure her that I've got things under control because I'm supposed to have broken up with her. It's frustrating as hell and doesn't help matters that my siblings and Kate have all taken it in turns to interrogate me about what happened with Ana. Kate has, predictably, been the most annoying. The fact that I broke her best friend's heart has cemented her hatred for me for life. Not that I particularly care about Kate's opinion; I just wish I could tell people the truth about the whole thing.

Taylor knows. I didn't want to involve him at first and only gave in when he threatened to quit. He claimed he couldn't properly perform his job if I'm not being completely honest with him. I'm not sure if he's more pissed that I didn't tell him from the beginning or because of the way I handled it with Ana. It's no secret he's fond of her; right now I think he's feeling a bit more loyal towards her than he is to me. And that works for me, at least for now; he's made it his priority to track down these fuckers so it can all come to an end. The rest of the security team is unaware of the situation, but Taylor has insisted on at least involving Barney to attempt to trace the sender of those emails and the IP addresses. So far he hasn't had any luck; the email address was a series of symbols that shouldn't even possibly exist. Even the IP trace came up empty—Barney managed to narrow a radius of where the message was sent from, but the best he could give us was that it was sent somewhere in Seattle. Not much of a help...

I don't know how much longer I can do this, if I can survive this stress and frustration without having Ana nearby to calm me. I need her more than I ever realized and it won't be long before I suffer a complete breakdown.

* * *

Caleb and I have been in Montesano for a week and a half now, and I still have no idea how to handle this situation. I gave Christian chance after chance to be honest with me the night I left and he refused every one of them. How stupid does he think I am? Just that morning we were planning our wedding together and I thought he was getting more excited than I was about it. A person doesn't go from that to ending a relationship in only a few hours without outside interference. I confirmed my theory when I was in our bedroom packing and I heard him in Caleb's nursery over the baby monitor. That's why I gave him one last chance to come clean with me, to be honest and trust that I could handle whatever it was that happened. He loves us, he'll always love us, and no one will ever convince me otherwise.

But knowing that he's done this in some misguided attempt to keep us safe doesn't exactly soften the blow of the things he said to me. I've laid in bed every night since I got here, replaying every single word and wondering if there was any element of truth in it. Most times I manage to convince myself it was all bullshit, but at other times, particularly when my self-esteem is especially low, I believe everything he said. A small part of me hates him for what he's done to us and I don't think I could ever forgive him for it. The rest of me thinks rationally, trying to see it from his point of view, and I can sort of understand his behavior. He's done it out of love; in his shoes, I would probably do the same. But I would at least involve him eventually, if for no other reason than to tell him I love him and that won't ever change. He hasn't even done that much for me.

Ray has been rather tight-lipped on the subject, not approving or condemning Christian's behavior, though I suspect if Christian ever shows his face around here, I'll have no doubt on whose side my dad is on. I'd only been half-joking about the shotgun comment I made to Christian before leaving.

Today, in an attempt to cheer me up, Ray has decided to host a barbeque with a few neighbors and some of his family—his brother Andrew and his wife Cheryl, and their kids, both around my age. Amy and Michael always treated me as their cousin. When I moved back in with Ray as a teenager, we all went to the same school and they included me in their group of friends. It's been far too long since I've seen any of them, though nothing seems to have changed. Upon arrival, every person invited has spent a minimum of five minutes fawning over Caleb. He seems to love all the attention, particularly from the women, if the permanent little grin on his face is any clue.

"Pictures don't do him justice," Cheryl informs me as we sit at the picnic table in the backyard. "And let me tell you, Ray hasn't hesitated to pull out his wallet at every opportunity to show him off."

I smile at this, imagining my gruff dad melting over photos of his grandson. "We should get back here more often," I admit. "I forgot how much I loved coming back here..." It occurs to me I haven't considered any sort of plan involving leaving Montesano, whether to go back to Seattle or Savannah. With the days dragging on without any communication from Christian, I should probably start thinking on what I'll do next.

Now probably isn't the best time to think about that, though; Ray wants to see me smiling today rather than as the misery I've been for a week, and I think he's managed to find something that might help...

"Ana!"

I turn around and stare in shock as José enters the yard behind his father. He looks exactly as he did the last time I saw him, which was the night before Kate and I moved to Seattle. Settling Caleb in a high chair, I slide out of the picnic table bench and meet him. I'm actually comforted by the familiarity of his arms hugging me, though I'm very aware that his embrace is nothing like Christian's. I hug him back a little more tightly, trying not to think about Christian right now. "It's good to see you!" I say honestly when we break apart.

He beams at me, his eyes not missing a detail. "Yeah, you too," he says. "It's been way too long, Ana."

I grimace. "I know. Sorry about that."

"No worries," he says with a shrug, glancing at Caleb. 'That's him then? Your son?"

"That is my son," I confirm. "His name is Caleb."

If I didn't know any better, I'd say Caleb is scowling at my friend—an expression so reminiscent of his father that I crack a smile. "He's cute," José says. "He's got your eyes."

I notice José doesn't comment on who else Caleb looks like and I'm fine with that for the moment. José is the last person I want to talk to about Christian. I glance over towards the grill where Ray and José Senior are talking and sipping at bottles of beer. Ray seems to be glancing over here more often than he normally would as though he's keeping an eye on José. I hide my smile in my can of Coke and listen to José recount the last year of his life. He's got his own photography studio now and it seems to be doing pretty well. The girlfriend he was rumored to have was apparently fleeting; he met her when he was traveling in Paris and discovered she was from Portland as well, so they spent their vacation together, came back together, and a few months into it, decided they should have left the relationship in France.

"So what about you?" José asks once he's finished his story. "Heard you took off for Savannah out of nowhere and Kate was pretty tight-lipped on why." He glances at Caleb briefly. "Though now I can see why... Does this mean you're back?"

I sigh, shrugging. "I don't know," I answer honestly. "Everything is a little... confusing at the moment..." _Understatement much?_ "For now I'm just trying to clear my head." _And desperately hoping Christian manages to come to his senses before it's too late and puts us both out of our misery. _"No place better than here." Truth. It's been therapeutic to sit on my dad's back porch overlooking the forest and the lake, and lose myself in my thoughts. There are moments when everything is perfectly clear in my mind the longer I sit there, but as soon as my attention is diverted, that clarity vanishes.

"Well," José says, drawling out the word into several syllables, "I'm staying with Dad for a couple weeks. He's got some doctor appointments that he needs me to drive him to. So maybe we can get together or something..." I watch him curiously, noticing he's staring down at his shoes as he mutters the words. "It would be nice to catch up, don't you think?"

I hesitate, knowing there is so much more to his thoughts than what he's saying. Maybe it's motherhood that is giving me a clearer picture or simply the fact that Christian Grey has changed every aspect of my life, but I suddenly see why Christian felt the way he did about my friend. "Um," I murmur. Is it just me or has José scooted a little closer to me in the last few seconds? As though I'm seeing it from the outside, José's hand is slowly moving with the intention of resting it on mine.

As I subtly pull my hand away, I hear Ray calling from the grill. "José, come give us a hand!"

José looks over at my dad as though he'd forgotten there were other people present in the yard. The look on Ray's face suggests it wasn't so much a suggestion as it was a command and I think if José hesitates any longer, Ray will come over and drag him to the grill by his ear. "You should probably go," I tell José, trying not to laugh at the sulky expression on his face at the interruption.

"Right," he grumbles. "We'll talk later?"

I give him a tight smile. "Sure," I reply.

* * *

I fucking hate this. I've tried filling my days with business meetings, workouts with Claude, and even resorted to going out with Elliot a couple times, and I still can't seem to distract myself for long. My thoughts are constantly with Ana and Caleb, wondering where they are, what they're doing, and who they're doing it with. The longer this goes on the more I feel as though I'm losing them. I need this resolved, and soon. I'm not sure how much longer a can resist a drive to Montesano or prepping the newly repaired _Charlie Tango_ for flight. The phone calls with Ray aren't cutting it anymore, especially when I have to tell him every time that I'm no closer to catching the people making our lives hell than I was over a week ago.

Today, I've been forced into spending time with my family. Mia and Elliot showed up at Escala a few hours ago and practically dragged me out of the penthouse while Taylor stood aside looking amused rather than rescuing me. Apparently he doesn't see my brother and sister as a potential threat. I'm already planning how to best fire him once I get home...

At least I'm not the only one being forced into socialization today. Ray told me he's having a barbeque with a few friends and family members to see if it helps Ana's mood at all. If she's feeling anything like me, nothing will help her mood. I'm already making plans on what will happen once Ana an Caleb are back home with me and this mess is done and over. Aside from marrying her as soon as possible, we'll be moving into the house on the Sound immediately. Elliot had a rush put on the construction and remodel, everything should be finalized in a few weeks. So assuming we get all this shit resolved, Ana and I can have a decent honeymoon, then move into our new home upon our return.

It seems more like a dream than anything else at this point. Aside from getting any resolution to our problems, I still have to face up to the things I said to Ana the night I sent her away and hope like hell she'll find some way to forgive me. Ray says he thinks she's worked out most of it, not that she's said as much, but I still have a lot of explaining to do. I had to beg Ray not to tell her everything; I couldn't have her showing back up in Seattle unannounced to rip me a new one and blow this whole fucking sham out of the water.

"Christian, Mom wants you to help set the table."

I glance over my shoulder to where Mia is leaning against the door of the sitting room, watching me with an odd expression. "I'll be there in a minute," I tell her.

She lingers a little while longer as though she wants to say something to me, but in the end, she shakes her head and leaves the room. This is how it's been since I got here a few hours ago; everyone seems to want to give me a piece of their mind, but no one manages to actually get it out. Elliot has somehow managed to keep Kate under control and in return, I've managed to ignore the death glares she's been sending me since I walked through the door.

Sighing, I stand to head into the dining room before Grace comes looking for me, reaching into my pocket for my phone when it vibrates. It's a text message. With a photo attachment. My blood turns to ice when I open it and see Ana sitting at a picnic table, Caleb in her lap, with Ray sitting beside them. They're all smiling, though Ana's is obviously forced. For a moment, I think perhaps Ray sent me the photo, even though I know inherently that isn't the case. I force myself to read the message that was sent along with it:

**Did you really think sending them away would be enough to keep them safe?**

"Fuck." They're there right now with Ana and Caleb, and by the look of the photo, it's someone she's comfortable around. I suppose it's possible the picture was taken and this unknown fucker somehow got his hands on it, but that's rather unlikely at this point. Either way, I can't take anymore fucking risks.

"Christian, what's taking so—" My mother enters the room to find me gripping the back of a chair for balance to the point my fingers are white. "Christian, what is it?"

I try several times to say something in response, to tell her I'm not sick and don't need to be rushed to the hospital, which I know has already crossed her mind. Finally I manage it. "I'm sorry," I say hoarsely. "Mom, I have to go. There's an emergency and I have to leave right now."

It's obvious she doesn't understand and wants to question me, but thankfully, she doesn't. "Is there anything I can do?" she asks gently.

"Not right now," I answer, getting a grip on myself as I hear my father approaching the room as well. I even manage a halfway believable smile. "I'm not in any trouble, I promise, but I have to go."

"Okay," she says. "Be safe."

Thankful to not get the third degree, I rush out of the room, barely stopping myself from barreling into Carrick and completely ignoring his questions as I head to the front door. I vaguely hear Grace placating Carrick with some explanation I couldn't care less about right now; I'm too busy dialing Taylor. Lucky for him, he picks up on the first ring. "Prep _Charlie Tango_ for flight to Montesano immediately," I instruct him. "And alert the security team down there to be on standby."

I barely wait for his "yes, sir," response before I'm hanging up and calling Ray Steele as I walk through the door to where Taylor has the SUV already pulled up. He's already making his calls. Growling in frustration at Ray's inability to answer his fucking phone, I climb into the backseat. Taylor is driving before I manage to get my seatbelt on. "Christian," Ray says in obvious surprise. It's rare that I call him more than once and I've made it a point to only call him when I know it's unlikely Ana will be around.

"Ray, they are in your house right now," I inform him. "I just received a photo of you, Caleb, and Ana with another message.

"Shit!" he exclaims. His voice is much quieter than mine would be in his position; I assume it's to avoid suspicion. "You're sure?"

"Positive. I'm on my way now; hopefully I'll be there in an hour." I quickly remove the phone from my ear and forward the message I received to Ray. "You should get the picture shortly. Was that taken today?"

There's rustling on the other end of a line while Ray figures out how to work his phone. He curses again and I know what his answer will be. "Yes, it was taken today. Just a couple hours ago."

"By whom?" I demand, trying to remain patient.

"José."

It takes several moments for me to register the name and put it with a face. When it does, I find myself punching the empty passenger seat in front of me. "You have to be fucking kidding me," I spat. The fucking photographer wasn't even on our list of suspects. "Is he still there?"

"Yes," Ray bites out, apparently coming to the same conclusion I've reached.

"Good. Keep him there," I say shortly. "And if it's possible, I need his cell phone and his camera if he has it with him."

"Christian, you don't really think José..." Ray begins.

I sigh. "I don't know," I answer. "But this is the first real lead we've gotten since this began and I'm not letting this go."

Ray pauses for a moment to think. "Okay. I'll do what I can. Should I tell Annie?"

I take a second to smile at the realization that I'm going to see Ana and Caleb very soon and I don't even particularly care that she won't be happy to see me. "No," I answer. "I'll explain when I get there."

"We'll see you soon, then," Ray responds.

Ending the phone call, I glance up from to Taylor who is looking at me through the rearview mirror. "José Rodriguez?" he asks.

I nod. "The problem I'm having is that after the couple of meetings I've had with him, he doesn't seem to have the smarts to do something like this on his own," I say broodingly. "Ana told me she hasn't even seen the guy in more than a year and I don't see him doing anything that might potentially hurt her. I'd have thought Battaglia long before I even considered him."

Taylor nods once. "Me too, sir."

But even if José isn't responsible for all of this, I'd be willing to bet my company he can at least point us in the right direction of who is.

* * *

José has hardly left my side for more than a couple minutes since his arrival and it's really starting to get on my nerves. Yes, I missed him and yes, I want to catch up on the last year with him, but it seems he still hasn't learned the meaning of personal space. Sometime after lunch, Ray seemed to catch on at my discomfort; he's been looking for just about any excuse to get José away from me—he even asked José to show him how to use his "fancy phone". And I haven't missed the change in my dad's mood. He received a phone call, before which he was carefree and in his element of playing host for the barbeque and after which, his eyes were hardened and locked on José no matter what he was doing.

Now, in the early evening, most of the guests have gone home, including José Senior while his son hung back to help Ray get his fishing gear ready for a trip he's planning tomorrow. He wanted Caleb and me to tagalong, but I'm not entirely comfortably taking my seven-month-old son out on a little motorboat in the middle of a huge lake. Ray didn't mind; he's convinced Caleb will be one hell of a fisherman when he's older so he's content to wait a bit longer.

And speaking of my son, he's falling asleep in my lap and I realize he hasn't had much of a nap today with all the people around wanting to play with him. I can see the little frown growing on his lips, a sign that if he doesn't get to sleep soon, he's going to throw the tantrum to end all tantrums.

Ray and José are in the yard fixing a broken line on one of Ray's fishing poles and they barely acknowledge me when I tell them I'm going to put Caleb down. As I change his diaper, I reach for the first onesie I find and unfold it, freezing. It's the onesie Christian had custom-made for him that declares him to be the future CEO of his company. I remember the first night I saw it—we were still in Savannah and Christian was giving Caleb a bath, and I wandered in to just watch them together. I remember being amazed at how gentle Christian was with his son and how adorable the two of them were together.

I set aside the onesie for another one—a Seattle Mariners one Ray bought him last week—and get him ready for bed. "Love you, baby boy," I whisper, placing him in his crib. "Sleep well."

I head back downstairs and decide on a cup of tea to settle my emotions before I rejoin Ray and José outside. The last thing I want is my dad's concerned eyes on me or José trying to comfort me. Just as the water finishes boiling, I hear the doorbell. Glancing at the clock, I wonder who might have come to visit; I was under the impression all the people that would come by had been here earlier today for the barbeque. With a sigh, I go to answer the door and the breath is completely knocked out of me when I see who is standing on the porch.

"Christian," I breathe, greedily taking in his appearance and noting that he's doing exactly the same with me. He's exhausted as though he hasn't slept in a week and he seems to have lost some weight. Well, we both have, I suppose. His eyes are that stormy gray color and I can't tell if it's because of lust or even possibly anger for some reason. I snap myself out of my daze, reminding myself of our current status. "What are you doing here?"

Movement behind Christian reveals Taylor standing to the side of the door, his lips pressed in a flat line. "Where is he?" Christian asks, his voice a husky growl.

I frown at him, wondering which _he_ he's referring to. "Who, Caleb? He's asleep."

Christian's patience, I realize, is strained, though for once I don't think it has anything to do with me. "No," he says softly in an attempt to not take his bad mood out on me. "The photographer, Ana. Where is he?"

My mouth drops open. "_José?_ You're joking, right? You came all this way because José is here? And how the hell did you even know he was here to begin with?"

"I told him."

I spin around to find Ray standing not far behind me. "What?" I ask cluelessly. I wasn't sure what to expect if Christian showed up here after what happened between us—how Ray would react—but I didn't really consider this to be an option. Ray and Christian are looking at one another with expressions of grim understanding. "What's going on?" I look between both of them, but nether answers. I step back when Christian starts to enter the house.

"He's in back, Christian," Ray says quietly.

With a nod, Christian and Taylor quickly make their way through the house to the backyard, Ray following them briskly. I snap out of my confusion and join them, stepping onto the back porch in time to see José jump to his feet and back himself against the railing as the other three men approach him.

"I'm only going to ask once, Rodriguez," Christian growls, "so I suggest you think carefully: Who the fuck is sending the messages?"

José's look of confusion matches mine almost completely, but I see something in his eyes to suggest his is fake. "I don't know what you're talking about," he says quietly, looking between Christian and Taylor as though he's wondering about his chances of making a run for it.

"Ray?" Christian says, not taking his eyes from José as he sticks out his hand. I watch in mounting confusion when my dad places what looks to be José's cell phone in Christian's palm. Christian hits a series of buttons and even from this angle, I can see his jaw tensing and his anger growing. He shoves the phone in José's face. "This... All these photos you've been taking of Ana and Caleb... Did you think they were just for someone's photo album?"

"What's going on?" I ask again, stepping forward. "What photos?"

Christian glances at me briefly and I see his expression soften as he hands me the phone. "José has been following you and Caleb around Seattle," he explains. "He's been taking pictures of the two of you—pictures that have been forwarded to me along with some pretty clear threats."

I scroll through the pictures—Caleb and me in the park a few weeks back, sitting in the grass; Christian, Caleb, and me walking down the street; me climbing out of an SUV outside what I think might be Grey House; Kate, Mia, Caleb, and Mia having lunch the day I left Escala. There are dozens more going back to the evening I arrived in Seattle to surprise Christian... I look up at José, wordlessly handing Christian the phone again—he immediately starts going through the phone again. Everything is starting to make sense now, including Christian's very sudden decision to send Caleb and me away. José is looking at me pleadingly.

"Ana, I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I just thought..."

"What?" Christian snaps. "What did you think? Get me out of the way and you could finally make your move on her? Did you even realize she could have been killed in that fucking car accident?"

José swallows hard, looking between Christian and me. His jaw tenses. "She wasn't supposed to be in that car," he says emphatically.

Several things happen at once: Christian uses his arm to push me behind him. Ray takes several steps forward towards José, his intent possibly to punch my former friend. Christian's stance changes to do the same. Taylor steps in keeping them back. "We need him conscious," Taylor says coldly, glancing at José. "We still need answers."

Christian curses, shoving his fingers through his hair. "Start fucking talking, Rodriguez. Now."

José seems to suddenly realize just how outnumbered he is with three very angry, very overprotective men; he pales significantly. "I never wanted to see her hurt," he finally says, his eyes darting to me. Christian shifts, blocking José's view of me. "He said Ana and the baby would be safe once they were away from Grey. Grey was the real target; Ana and the baby were just in the way."

"Who?" Christian barks.

Looking as though he's going to be sick, José gives his answer. "Robert Lincoln."


	30. Chapter 30

"_Who?_" Ray and Ana ask the question at the same time with the same amount of confusion, but I ignore them for now.

For just a moment, I feel myself being pulled back in time to a day nearly a decade ago. I'd been on break from Harvard and had come home to visit my family—or at least that's what I'd told them. In reality, my priority was to see Elena. It had been a particularly frustrating term at school and I needed an outlet only she could provide me. Following the scene she'd been planning out for weeks, I'd been in her kitchen making us a couple sandwiches before we returned to her playroom. I was in just my jeans—those old ripped jeans with the top button undone—when I heard the front door open. Linc was supposed to have been out of town that weekend, but apparently he came back early; he'd suspected for a while that Elena was having an affair, but he'd been unable to prove it until then. There had been shouting, threats, punches thrown, and Linc even went so far as to pull a gun on me. Elena managed to convince him to leave me out of it and he did, grudgingly. I hadn't wanted to leave her with him not knowing what he might do in my absence, but Elena demanded I do so and as her submissive, I obeyed immediately. A few hours later, my mother received a call that her old friend had been brought into the hospital badly beaten. Grace rushed off to see Elena and once she was gone, I jumped in my car and went searching for Linc. I still don't know where he'd been hiding that night, or in the days following, but when I finally got around to visiting Elena in the hospital—I hadn't wanted to rouse suspicion from my parents as to why I was so interested in her injuries—she told me to let it go for now. There was plenty of time for payback, she'd said, and beating the shit out of him wouldn't have gotten the point across.

I've spent the time since biding my time in case Linc gave me more reason to destroy him. And I think I've finally got that reason. Chancing a glance at Ana, I can see her working it all out in her mind and the moment she does, I can also see the accusation in her eyes. Again, for now, I ignore it; I'll just add this to the list of things I need to apologize to Ana about.

'Mrs. Robinson's ex?" she murmurs so only I can hear.

I nod once, unable to look at her, and turn back to José. "How did you even get involved in all this?" I ask him.

José seems relieved by the change in subject rather than getting his face bashed in by the rest of us. "He found me. He was at my gallery opening last year in Portland and he saw the portraits I'd taken of Ana. Then you walked in," he nods his head towards me, "and he saw your fascination with them and realized who she was to you. He said he knew Ana didn't belong with you, that she wasn't safe and if I helped him, she'd figure out the truth—that I could take better care of her than you could. But Ana had already left Seattle, so he put off his plan until she came back. I'd forgotten about the whole thing until he called me out of the blue to ask if I was still interested."

It's taking all my restraint not to break his fucking nose.

"All he wanted me to do was take pictures of her, to prove to you all your security procedures were bullshit. He sent them to you because he knew you would send her away to keep her safe and that would be my opening. I never thought Ana would be hurt—honestly. I wouldn't have gone along with it if I thought otherwise. He just wanted you to be as miserable as he was when his wife left him."

I almost laugh at the words. There is no way in this universe Linc was miserable because he and Elena split up—being miserable would imply that he actually gave a shit about her. I have to admit, though, he chose the perfect lie to convince José to help him... "What about the stuffed animal?" I ask, suddenly certain there is much more to this than what José knows.

His brow furrows deeply. "What stuffed animal?" he asks in confusion.

Sighing, I nod, glancing at Taylor. The interrogation isn't over, but it'll be better all around if I keep my interactions with José's brief. Of course he puts up a fight, and in possible loyalty to José's father, Ray doesn't give anyone the opportunity to tell him he shouldn't be present. Taylor is surprisingly okay with that. Ray hesitates for just a second before following Taylor, glancing between Ana and me uncertainly. Whatever it is he's looking for, he seems to find it, and a moment later Ana and I are alone on the porch. When I finally have the nerve to turn to face her, I almost wish I hadn't; I can't tell if she's about to cry or rage at me.

"Ana, let me explain," I say quietly. "Please."

She shakes her head. "I need to check on Caleb," she lies in a murmur.

I can't do anything but watch her leave. Right now, I know she needs her space to comprehend everything that has just happened. Instead, I focus on her, on the two of us being in the same place for the first time in over a week. When Ray told me she hasn't been herself, I hadn't pictured exactly how our break-up affected her. She's still beautiful and being near her still turns me on, but it's obvious she's suffering. She's lost weight, she looks exhausted, and her eyes have dulled considerably, giving her a defeated expression. And it's all my fault. Everything that has happened is because of me—because of my affair with Elena. If José is being honest about Linc's involvement, and I know he is or he'd be risking the wrath of three men who would do anything to protect Ana, then I know exactly what caused this. The moment Taylor returns from questioning José, he'll begin making several calls to track Linc down and apprehend him. I'm not naïve enough to think that will be the end; there have to be other accomplices. How else would we have been sent Caleb's toy? Neither Linc nor José will have been invited to my parents' home for my birthday party and Ana was certain that's when the toy had been taken.

Elena is next on my list to track down...

Unable to resist any longer, I enter the house and head upstairs in search of Ana and Caleb. However she feels about me right now, I need to be able to explain. I find them in what I assume to be Ana's room where she is sitting on the edge of a bed, Caleb in her arms, as she stares out the window. I debate for several minutes about whether to just leave her to her thoughts and come back later once she's had time to think, but she picks up on my presence before I reach a decision.

"Hi," she says softly, not turning to look at me.

"Hi," I reply. "Is it okay if I come in?"

"If I said no, would you leave?" she asks.

I smirk just a little. "Probably not," I say honestly.

I can almost see her rolling her eyes. "Then by all means," she says sarcastically, waving her arm around the room.

Sighing, I enter the room, taking a seat in a chair still several feet from her. "I'm so sorry," I whisper, silently begging her to just look at me. She doesn't. "Ana..."

"Last year," she says suddenly, "you told me your affair with Elena ended when her husband found you." Though she still doesn't look at me, I nod. "Is that why all this is happening?"

"Yes," I whisper. "Despite the fact that he barely paid attention to Elena during their marriage, and had probably cheated a dozen or so times, he didn't appreciate her doing the same thing to him."

"Can you blame him?" she asks incredulously. "Even if their marriage was horrible, that didn't give you the right to do what the two of you did."

There is undisguised disgust in her voice. "I know," I answer. "He made that quite clear when he beat the shit out of her and put her in the hospital." Ana finally looks at me, surprised. "All things considered, the way he found out was better than most—I don't even want to imagine what would have happened if..." I trail off, shaking my head. Ana doesn't need to hear that not fifteen minutes before Linc arrived home, Elena had me naked and shackled in her playroom while she caned me. "Anyway, I've been waiting all this time for him to retaliate in some way; I suppose this was his perfect opportunity."

"What are you going to do with José?" she asks.

All considered, that's probably a fair question... "Taylor is going to find out what he knows and determine if it's enough to press charges—last I checked, stalking is illegal in this state—and he'll be handed off to the authorities," I answer. "Once that is done, Taylor will start searching for Linc and any other accomplices that may be involved."

Ana looks at me sharply. "You think there are more?" she asks.

I shrug. "At this point, nothing would surprise me," I respond. I'm sure she's already come to the conclusion that Elena may be involved, so I'd rather not mention it unless she does.

We're quiet for several minutes, both of us watching Caleb wiggle around in Ana's arms as he continues to sleep. There is so much I need to say to her, but I'm waiting for her cues; apologies only go so far if the recipient is willing to accept them.

"Do you expect me to just forgive you?" she asks after one of the longest silences I've ever experienced. "After everything that's happened, everything you said to me, are we supposed to just go back to playing happy couple?"

I swallow hard. "To be honest, I had hoped we would," I say slowly. "But no, I don't expect it."

"Good." She finally looks at me fully and I see everything she's felt not only today, but in the last week as well, and it very nearly has me running for cover. The hurt, the anger, the betrayal, and just the general exhaustion from all the drama. "I can forgive a lot of things, Christian, but we've been so determined to be honest with each other. I could eventually get past the horrible things you said to me that night, even though it's still hurting me. I could forgive you for sending us away to protect us and telling my dad before telling me. I could even ignore the fact that with every turn we make, there seems to be more trouble right around the corner. But what I'm not sure I can forgive, what I can't just ignore right now is that you lied to me—repeatedly. I gave you chances to tell me what was going on, that you weren't doing what I thought you were doing, but you just continued to push me away."

"I did it to keep you safe," I say, starting to feel desperate for her to understand. "Ana, I had to; I didn't know who I could trust, who might be in on things, and if I gave you any hint that the whole thing was just a fucking act, I was afraid you and Caleb might get hurt. That wasn't a risk I could take."

She nods. "I know," she whispers. "And I know you did this in some attempt to protect us, but you didn't have to do it like this. Lying about the why is what makes everything else so much worse—what you said, how you acted that night, how I haven't heard even a word from you in over a week. Then you show up today and once again everything about my life is turned upside-down. You told me I don't know you; you're wrong. Christian, I love that you're willing to go to any lengths to keep us safe, but what you never seem to comprehend is that I feel safest when I'm with you, not an hour and a half away wondering just how much of what you said that you actually meant and afraid I'd never see you again or that with us out of the way, you put yourself in the danger you're trying to keep us from."

"You think I wanted this?" I ask her, my voice starting to crack. "You think I wanted to watch your heart break with every fucking word I said to you that night? It nearly killed me, Ana; I have been desperate since to find some end to this bullshit so I could come for you. Practically every person in our lives has given me a piece of their mind and I've been biting my tongue because I couldn't tell them the truth—not until I told you first."

"But you didn't tell me first!" she whispers loudly, mindful of Caleb still in her arms. "My dad knew what was going on before I did."

"I needed for him to be aware of the situation so he could help protect you," I explain. "My only other option was to have a security detail keeping an eye on things, but I didn't think Taylor would want to risk one of them being shot by Ray if they raised suspicion." For the first time since my arrival, I can see a hint of smile on her face, fleeting as it is. "In Ray's defense, he wanted to tell you, too, but I asked him not to. I'm sorry. I should have done things differently, but I can't take this back."

"That night, I told you that if you went through with this, there would be no coming back from it," she says quietly. "I told you not to come around begging me to take you back. Because this is how it always happens with us—one of us makes a mistake that hurts the other and we practically gut ourselves trying to fix it."

"It wasn't real," I say emphatically. "Ana, the whole fucking thing was an act!"

"To you it was an act," she corrects me. "To me it was very real. Despite the fact that I knew what was going on almost the moment you started talking that night, it was still real to me. The pain, the anger, the tears..." She shakes her head and I think she might start crying soon. "How much more can we put each other through before it becomes impossible to find our way back?"

I don't have an answer for that. She's right about how much pain we put each other through—it never seems to end. But I know that if she'd just let me, I could make it up to her somehow. I only wish I had an idea of where to start...

She sighs. "I don't know what to do, Christian," she admits softly. "I don't know how to handle this."

Licking my lips, I lean towards her, nervous. "You could come back to Seattle with me and we can sort it together," I suggest. "I miss you, Ana—you and Caleb—and I want you home with me."

For a moment, I wonder if she's even heard me, and I start to repeat my request, but she finally takes a breath to speak. "No."

My heart skips a beat. "No?" I repeat slowly, the word feeling alien and disgusting on my tongue. "What do you mean, no?"

"I mean no," she says. "I'm not going back to Seattle with you. Not now."

The breath has completely left my lungs and I fight the building panic in my body. "Ana..." I whisper.

"I need time," she goes on. "A lot has happened and before I can even consider returning to Seattle, I need to process."

"How long?"

She shrugs. "I don't know."

I sigh, knowing this is the best I'm going to get right now. "Okay," I whisper, standing. Reaching into my pocket, my fingers curl around the box inside it, placing it on top of the dresser. I try not to think about whether she'll ever open it again. I don't want to leave her, but I know it's best for both of us if I do. "Have dinner with me tomorrow?"

She looks up at the hopeful tone in my voice and she bites her lip for half a second. "Okay."

Relieved that she's not just shooting me down on principle, I take my chances and kneel in front of her, placing one hand on Caleb's hand and the other on the bed beside Ana. "I love you," I remind her. "I could never stop loving you, no matter what. Please remember that."

When she doesn't answer, I first lean in to kiss Caleb's forehead, then face her again, my intention quite clear. I give her the opportunity to push me away if she wants and I can't help but consider it a good sign when she doesn't; instead she allows me to press my lips against hers softly and though it kills me to pull away from her, I do it, climbing to my feet again. "I'll call you in the morning so we can discuss dinner details," I say quietly. She nods; I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. "I love you, Anastasia."

I'm out in the hallway when I hear her whisper, "I love you, too," and it physically hurts me to continue walking back down the stairs. I don't even know whether Taylor has finished with Rodriguez, but considering Ray hasn't returned, I assume not. I take the opportunity to look at some of the photos Ray has hanging on his wall. Most of them are of Ana from when she was a small child to as recently as her college graduation last year. There's even a photo of Ana and me together from that day. I didn't even realize it had been taken... One is of Ray and Caleb from what I assume might be the day Caleb was born. I can see the pride and happiness in Ray's expression as he looks down at his grandson and I once again desperately wish I had been there...

"Everything all right, Christian?"

I spin around, finding Ray coming in from the backdoor. I force a smile. "Yes," I say hoarsely. "Everything is fine." I glance towards the upstairs and wonder if Ana is listening. "Ana and I were just talking."

Ray seems to work out how our talk went just by looking at me and he smiles in sympathy. "Piece of advice?" he offers.

"I'll take anything I can get at this point," I reply wryly.

"Give her time, son. It's a lot to take in; I'm having some difficultly with it myself. You two will work this out."

"How do you know?" I ask. "I really hurt her..."

"I know because this is the first time since she and Caleb got here that she's got a spark in her eyes," he says. "Even if it's from anger or hurt or something else entirely, it's there because you're here. She's stubborn so she probably won't admit it to herself, let alone anybody else, but at some point, she'll start to see everything clearly again. You just make sure you're there for her when she does."

I'm not entirely certain what he's suggesting, but I nod. My phone beeps before I can respond—it's Taylor telling me he's ready whenever I am. "I should go," I say quietly. "She doesn't want me here right now and I know why; I don't want to make things worse for her."

Ray shows me out and I climb into the back of the SUV, suddenly exhausted. Neither Taylor nor I speak for several minutes while I try to get my thoughts under control. I need to distract myself somehow; if I keep thinking about Ana and the possibility that this time I really have destroyed everything between us, I think I'll lose it completely.

"Well?" I finally say, resting my elbow on the door and resting my forehead against the tips of my fingers.

Taylor sighs. "Rodriguez claims he didn't know the details of whatever Lincoln has planned."

"Do you believe him?"

Pausing, Taylor thinks, eyes darting to the rearview mirror. "Yes. He honestly believed Miss Steele and Caleb were in no danger. His only intention was to catch Miss Steele's attention and convince her you're dangerous."

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," I murmur, frowning suddenly as Taylor's words trigger a memory. "So let me get this straight: Two men who are in love with Anastasia both have it in their minds that I'll hurt her in some way, so they're doing everything possible to get her away from me." Taylor's brow furrows in thought. "If Rodriguez and Battaglia are both involved in this together, Linc has to be the one feeding them information. It explains how Battaglia seemed to be aware of my lifestyle. And Rodriguez... Well, from day one I knew he'd do just about anything to get her." I shake my head, anger taking over from misery following my conversation with Ana. "How the fuck did he even get close enough to her to take those photos? I pay my security team to keep shit like this from happening so who the fuck am I firing over this?"

Taylor doesn't answer, not that I expected him to; when it comes down to it, I know the security team was doing exactly what they were supposed to be doing. The shots taken of Ana and Caleb could have merely seemed to look like Rodriguez was taking photos of something or someone else entirely. And anyway, Taylor is the only one of them who knew Rodriguez; I never considered him a security threat, so I never mentioned it.

"What I don't understand," I begin broodingly, "is if I'm right and Linc has somehow recruited both Rodriguez and Battaglia... I can see how he might have found Rodriguez, but how the fucking hell would he have any connection to Battaglia?"

* * *

"Annie?"

Sighing, I force my gaze away from the open box containing my engagement ring. I've been staring at it for what has to be hours now; I realize vaguely that it's nearly midnight. I'd intended to put it in a drawer so I wouldn't have to look at every time I entered the room, but I opened it, just for a second, and every emotion I've felt in the last several weeks returned. I know why Christian left it with me: He wants me to remember that he loves me, to remind me he'll never give up on us, and to persuade me to come back to him.

I roll over on my bed and find my dad standing uncertainly in the doorway, clearly having no idea how to handle this situation. He brought me tea earlier and offered to give Caleb his bath before bedtime; I didn't protest.

"Can I come in?"

I smirk lightly, rolling my eyes. "That's the second time someone has asked me that tonight and something tells me you're going to ignore my answer just like he did."

Ray smiles. "I think you're right," he says, entering the room and sitting on the edge of my bed. "But we only do it because we love you and don't like seeing you like this."

"I never doubted being loved," I say quietly. I have the sudden feeling we're both talking about something completely different than people entering my room even though I'd rather they left me alone. "I just can't reconcile being loved with being pushed away and having my heart broken."

Ray sighs, swinging his legs onto the bed and resting his hands in his lap. "For the last week and a half, I've watched you mope around here and I haven't questioned you on it; I figured you'd come to me if you wanted to talk."

"From what I hear, you knew why we came here before we even arrived," I mutter, surprised at the bitterness in my tone.

"True," Ray agrees, nodding. "And Christian told me enough to know he's lucky you didn't leave him permanently damaged. He said some horrible things to you—his words—and though I don't know all the details, I think I have the gist of it. I didn't like that he did what he did, whether it was to protect you or not. But he didn't seem to know another way."

"How often did you talk to him?" I ask curiously. His tone suggests he knows more about Christian in the last week than I do.

He shrugs. "He called every day, always wanted to know how you and Caleb were. I could hear the change in his voice every time we spoke—at first he seemed certain that what he was doing was the right thing; yesterday he sounded..." Ray trails off, shaking his head. "Defeated is the best description I can think of. A lot like you, actually. It's like something is missing from both of you. I get you're upset, Annie, and I don't blame you one bit for that. Be upset. Be angry. But don't let stubborn pride ruin something I know makes you very happy." His eyes dart at the engagement ring. "That the one he gave you?"

I nod.

"It's nice. Big."

"It's extravagant and over the top. Just like Christian."

Ray chuckles. "The boy loves you, Annie. Take whatever time you need, but don't make his mistake; don't push him away even if you think that's the least of what he deserves. He's got enough to worry about right now without having the distraction of losing you on top of it."

"How do I know this won't happen again?" I ask, voicing my biggest fear.

"Maybe you don't," Ray says simply. "But neither does he. If you ask me, the only way you're going to get an answer is to go back to the source, don't you think?"

I know what he's insinuating, but I'm not ready to face Christian again tonight and definitely not by showing up at his hotel room. All it would take is one phone call to Taylor to find out where he is...

Christian and I agreed on dinner, and for now, we'll stick to that plan no matter how either of us might be for resolution.


	31. Chapter 31

I've recently come to the realization that I didn't even know the definition of nervous before Anastasia Steele came into my life. Being in control means there is no need for such emotions, but as ever, my control ceases to exist wherever she is concerned. I never know what to expect with her anymore, especially now when I'm sitting in a booth at the back of a small Italian restaurant in Montesano, Washington as I wait for her arrival. We spoke briefly this morning; she seemed eager to wrap up the phone call and I understood why when I heard Caleb crying in the background. The conversation only lasted long enough for me to suggest a meeting time and place, and she agreed, apologizing for having to end the call. The fact that she didn't tell me she'd changed her mind about having dinner with me made me hopeful about our future, but now, looking at my watch and realizing she's nearly half an hour late, that hope is starting to fade away. I've nearly called her half a dozen times to find out if she's okay, but I haven't got enough nerve to hear her tell me she wants nothing to do with me.

Sighing, I lean back in the booth and look up, feeling my heart skip a beat as it does every time Ana enters a room. She's here. Thank fucking God... I stand up as she approaches the table, hesitating only a second before leaning down to kiss her cheek. We both shiver at the contact and while I would very much like to prolong it, I pull back, gesturing for her slide into the booth.

"I'm glad you're here," I say honestly as our server hands her a menu.

She nods. "Me, too," she admits, not quite meeting my gaze. "How was your day?"

I raise an eyebrow at her attempt at chatting. "Frustrating," I answer. "We've spent the day trying to work out exactly what's going on and all we've gotten for our trouble are migraines."

"So you still know nothing?"

"Didn't say that," I say. "We know that José Rodriguez wasn't the first person Linc recruited for this; somehow, he's also associated with Joe Battaglia."

"What?" she exclaims loudly, blushing when she realizes she's drawn the attention of a few surrounding tables. "Sorry..."

I smirk, hiding it in my wine glass when she looks at me again. "It started as a farfetched theory last night," I explain. "José and Joe have a mutual interest in all of this, and it's too coincidental to ignore. Taylor did some digging and found out that while Joe was in Seattle with his team, he had lunch with Linc. We were only able to dig up a bit of CCTV footage and the angle is horrible, but from what I saw, it wasn't the first time they met."

She frowns briefly. "What's Linc look like?" she asks slowly. "Do you have a picture?"

Again I raise an eyebrow, wondering why Ana would ask. Immediately, I pull out my phone and pull up an internet search engine. It's not difficult to find a picture of Linc and I hand her the phone. Her eyes widen with surprise and her mouth drops open. "What?" I ask when she hands it back, looking shaken.

"I know him," she whispers. "He's Joe's uncle."

It's my turn to be surprised. "Uncle?" I repeat. "You're sure?"

She nods, then frowns. "Not his biological uncle," she amends. "He's been friends with Joe's dad since before Joe was born; Joe's just always Uncle Rob. I never knew his last name."

"But you met him?" I ask, suddenly angry at the prospect. "When?"

"Few months ago," she answers. "He visited Joe for a couple days and Caleb and I joined them for dinner."

"Well," I say, exhaling. "That makes things a little more interesting." I'm tempted to call Taylor now to start him on tracking down Battaglia along with Elena and Linc, but I suddenly remember why we're here right now and the rest pales into insignificance when it comes to the possibility of losing my family. "We'll look into it."

Ana seems surprised that I'm dropping the subject so suddenly, but doesn't have time to comment. The server appears to take our orders, though neither of us has spent any time actually looking at the menus in front of us. In a hurry, we select our meals and the server leaves us again. Now we're staring at each other awkwardly and I struggle for something to say.

"So I've been doing a lot of thinking," Ana begins quietly, playing with the cloth napkin on her plate. "About everything."

I swallow hard, taking a sip of my water to allow me to speak. "Oh? Have you reached any conclusions?"

"Not really. Every time I think I settle it, I think of something else that unravels everything else." She sighs heavily. "Christian, do you ever think that maybe this—all of this—is just too much?"

If I don't answer honestly, she'll know in an instant and then leave me. She's trying to give me another chance to tell her the truth after lying to her the night she left. "Sometimes, yes," I say quietly. "I've never been more confused and overwhelmed in my life than I am right now and I'm not just referring to our current... _predicament._ Ana, I would move mountains for you. I am willing right this very moment to drop to my knees and beg your forgiveness and for you to come back to me. Terror doesn't even begin to describe how I feel at the thought of losing you completely. I know I lied to you and that I said things to you that hurt you, and I'm sorry. I should have trusted you enough to believe you could handle whatever is being thrown at us."

"So why didn't you?" she asks. "And why the hell should I trust that you won't do it again the next time something bad happens?"

"Ana, I will never send you away again," I say emphatically. "I can't. I'm barely surviving as it is. I forget that despite appearances you are the strongest woman I know so my first instinct in every situation is to protect you in any way possible, even if that means breaking your heart. But I've realized since you and Caleb have been gone that I really, truly am nothing without you. Even if you come back to Seattle today, there is every possibility that the two of you will still be in danger, and as much as I hate myself for it, I am a selfish bastard and as such, I'm willing to risk everything for you."

"Even our safety?" she checks.

Sighing, I shove my fingers through my hair. "The only way for me to really know you're safe is to have you nearby. If that means I move to Montesano for however long it takes, then I'll do it. But I can't be away from you any longer. It's your choice."

Our meals arrive and we fall silent again while Ana processes my words, and I wonder if I've pushed my luck too far finally. The admission that I'm selfish enough to risk my family's safety because I can't bear to be alone, however true, sounded much better in my head than it did out loud. I've probably scared her and now she'll eat her bowl of pasta while trying to think of the best way to tell me to fuck off, to stay away from her and our son. After a while, though, the silence becomes deafening.

"Ana, please say something," I beg, letting my fork clatter to the plate.

She sighs. "What do you want me to say?" she asks. "That I can just forget everything that's happened and we can go back to normal with a snap of our fingers? I wish we could and I know it's nothing more than my stubbornness talking right now, but I just can't right now. Having said that, I have decided to come back to Seattle, but not back to Escala. Kate still has the apartment she was living in before she and Elliot got married, and I asked if she'd mind it if Caleb and I stayed there for a while."

"What?" I breathe in horror. "Ana, you can't..."

She raises an eyebrow. "Can't I?" she retorts. "I can't explain it, but I need this, Christian. We rush into everything blindly without stopping to consider that maybe we're better taking things slow or even that there's a possibility we're better off apart."

"Bullshit!" I exclaim, slamming my fist on the table. I completely ignore the other restaurant patrons' startled reactions. "Ana, that's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard, and keep in mind I've spent a lifetime having conversations with Elliot. There is no possibility in this universe that we aren't meant to be together, not now, not ever. I know how I feel being without you and I know you feel exactly the same so please, don't ever try to convince me otherwise."

She stares at me steadily. "I need this, Christian."

"You're running," I correct her. "Call it what it is, Ana."

She doesn't respond, reaching into her jacket pocket and pulling out her boxed engagement ring, and places it on the table between us. The walls are closing in on me as I stare at that box, knowing exactly what it symbolizes. "This is the end," I whisper, fighting the urge to punch something, to turn the sudden pain I'm feeling into something—anything—else.

"No," Ana says quietly, somehow breaking into my thoughts. "That's not why I'm giving it back."

"Then why?" I snap at her desperately. "I gave it to you because it's yours and I want you to have it no matter what happens."

She nods slowly. "I want to earn it," she whispers. I snap my gaze to hers, finding her eyes filled with tears. "I want both of us to earn it. The going gets tough, and we run. I ran with Caleb last year; and while you sent us away rather than leaving us, it's the same idea, isn't it? We're separated. We're miserable. We need to prove to each other that we can do this."

It takes me a few minutes to understand exactly what it is she's saying. It sounds ridiculous at first—why would we extend our separation if we both know we'll end up back together anyway? But then I realize that we don't know the outcome—not really. I know what I'm hoping for, what I would do absolutely anything for, and I think she wants the same. At the same time, though, I can feel doubt niggling at the back of my mind about my ability to actually deserve her. Maybe that's what she needs for herself, too; to know she's deserving of me and our son, and our happiness. If this is the way for us to do that, if it's what I have to do in order to have her in my life, then I'll do it.

"I don't like it," I tell her, reaching for the ring. "I don't like being separated from you."

"You won't be, though," she argues, leaning in. "You know exactly where we'll be and you are more than welcome to spend time with us. I want this to be temporary, Christian."

Shaking my head, I shove the ring into my pocket. "I suppose it makes no difference to you that the danger hasn't lessened at all."

"You'll keep us safe," she says emphatically. "You always do. I know you won't let anything hurt us. Not even yourself... Because I know that's really what you're afraid of."

I stare at her in surprise, wondering how she always seems to get to the bottom of the problem. "I still don't like it," I sigh. "Anything can happen and I'd be too far away to do anything about it."

"So you're really telling me that Taylor can arrange a team to outfit my dad's house with state of the art security systems and have me followed when I go any further than the mailbox, but you can't do the same with an apartment?"

I choke on my wine. "You know about that?" I cough.

She smirks. "How do you always seem to look past my GPA? I knew you weren't going to cart us off and leave us open to danger, regardless of what you said that night. You're too much of a control freak to leave it to chance."

I narrow my eyes at her as she silently laughs at me. "So does this mean I'm forgiven?" I ask tentatively once our anger dissipates.

She sighs. "Getting there," she says quietly. "I want to be angry and hurt, but I also know that if I hang onto it, we'll both suffer, and I don't want to cause us any more pain than what we've already got. I will say this, though: the lies have to stop. I don't care if you think you're doing it to protect me; I need the truth from you at all times and I will do the same with you."

Nodding, I realize she's more hurt by the fact that I lied to her than she is about any of the rest of it. And we both knew it was a lie from the beginning. "Taylor and I have to return to Seattle in the morning," I say as we leave the restaurant. "I don't know how long you were planning to stay here, but I'd very much like it if you and Caleb would come back with me just so I know you get there safely."

We stop at Ray's pickup truck, Ana leaning against the door as she thinks. "I'd like that, too," she says shyly, hiding a smile by biting her lip.

I grin and free the lip from her teeth. "Good," I say simply. I know what I want now, but I'm not sure if she'll approve. It's only when she looks up at me through her eyelashes that I know she wants it too. Still, I move in tentatively, giving her the opportunity to push me away if she prefers. The moment our lips touch, I'm lost. This is what I've missed so desperately in the past week and a half—holding her, pressing against her, breathing in her scent. Her fingers twist in my hair, causing me to groan and press her more firmly into the truck door.

With sheer herculean strength, I tear myself away from her knowing if we continue, we won't be able to stop and considering our recent agreement, neither of us is ready for that. Soon, I hope, but not yet. I open the truck door for her and help her into the seat. "Drive safely, Miss Steele," I murmur, pressing another kiss to her lips after buckling her seatbelt. "Until tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Christian," she whispers.

I close the door and step back when she starts the engine, watching until she disappears from sight. Taylor pulls up beside me and I climb in the passenger seat of the SUV. "The apartment Miss Steele lived in when she first moved to Seattle," I begin. "My sister-in-law still has it and Miss Steele has decided she and Caleb will be staying there for the time being. It needs to be secure while they remain there."

"Yes, sir," he acknowledges quietly. I can hear the curiosity in his tone, but he doesn't question me.

"Also, Anastasia has informed me of a connection between Joe Battaglia and Linc—apparently Linc is an old family friend. I want details on this."

At this, Taylor actually does look at me, shock in his expression. "You're sure?" he asks.

"Ana is sure," I amend. "And I trust Ana."

We fall silent again until we approach the hotel where we're staying until tomorrow. "Sawyer has confirmed who took your son's stuffed toy," Taylor informs me. "It was Mrs. Lincoln."

I sigh even though this is the answer I'd expected. "She sent it as well?" I ask.

"Don't think so," Taylor says, parking the car. "If I had to guess, I'd say Mrs. Lincoln took the toy the night of your birthday party and gave it to her ex-husband to mail back to you. It was enough to frighten you and set everybody on edge, which I'm sure was the ultimate goal. At this point, I'm not even sure it was a threat against Caleb, just a message about how easy it would be to get to him. I still believe you are the ultimate target."

"Even so, if we're right and Linc is behind this, he's not going to hesitate if anybody gets in his way of retaliation. Not you, not the rest of the security team, and certainly not Ana and Caleb."


	32. Chapter 32

The drive from Montesano to Seattle is bittersweet. I'm grateful for the time with Ana and Caleb, especially as Ana has been in a good mood since I arrived at Ray's house this morning to have breakfast with them. I'm trying not to think that Ana's good mood is because she's coming back to Seattle, but not to me, that she's just as happy to be with me as I am with her. It occurred to me that I'm possibly setting myself up for more misery if she decides she's better off without me. The thought on its own is devastating and I'll do whatever possible to prevent that, but I have to prepare myself for the worst.

At this point, I'm not even entirely certain what I need to do in order to keep them. It always comes back to the two of us wrapping ourselves in knots in an attempt to fix our relationship and to get the other's forgiveness. It's exhausting. I've spent a week and a half desperate to set things right with Ana and I knew all along she would be hurting after what I said and did to her, but I'd hoped she'd understand _why_ I did it. To a point, I think she does; she knows I need her and our son safe at all times and she's finally realizing there isn't anything I wouldn't do to achieve that. But her feelings are hurt. Compared to everything else happening around us, that should be the least of my concerns—hurt feelings are better than her being hurt physically, or worse.

Too much hurt has been dealt between the two of us from the very beginning. I tried to keep her at arm's length when we first met because I didn't want to destroy her innocence with my darkness. Doing so hurt her because she didn't understand why I was rejecting her; she thought it was by some fault of her own. I struggled against every instinct I had to push her away for her own good, but at every turn, there she was, refusing to give up on me. The day with the belt when she left me... She wanted to make me happy—that's why she let me take her into the playroom—but again, she didn't realize what she was asking for. I hurt her, broke her heart because I made her think she couldn't be what I wanted, and she broke mine by leaving me. Since then, it's been one thing after another—Elena, Joe, Jack Hyde, _Charlie Tango_, the car accident... So many other things that I'm losing track of. All I wanted was to find a way forward with my family, to be the father I never realized I could be.

But it doesn't matter, because apparently Anastasia doesn't have the same faith in me that I have in her. Probably rightly so after everything she's been through with the baggage I drag along with me wherever I go. I may be able to keep them safe from outside threats, but I seem unable to keep her happy. So perhaps this separation is for the best, at least for now, until I can find a way to fix everything. At least in Seattle I'll be able to reach her quickly if something happens and since she's aware of the danger, she's agreed to my proposed security measures. Maybe taking it slow, getting to know one another to avoid something like this happening again in the future, is the best way forward. I'm already making mental notes to arrange appointments with John Flynn for the both of us, and I'll be able to spend time with them as often as possible. We'll get through this somehow—I hope.

Far too soon, we're pulling up to the apartment building I haven't been to since the night I snuck in through a window to check on Ana because nobody had heard from her. Incidentally, that window has been secured along with all the others in the apartment to prevent anybody getting in. Even Ana won't be able to open a window without having to press a code into a keypad to avoid setting off the alarm.

We leave Taylor at the car as I take Ana's bags in one hand and Caleb's car seat in the other while she leads the way. Inside the apartment, I quickly show her how to operate the security system and make her promise to activate it the moment she enters or leaves. With Caleb settled in Kate's old bedroom—along with security installation, I had a crib and a few other pieces of furniture delivered—Ana and I find ourselves standing at the door again looking at each other awkwardly.

"You're sure about this?" I ask her, half-hoping she'll have changed her mind since arriving. "You are and will always be welcome at Escala, and..." I hesitate, wondering if it would be pushing my luck to tell her. "Well, the construction on the house is complete enough that we can move in whenever we're ready."

Her eyes widen in surprise. "Oh," she says quietly, looking around to find some sort of response.

"I'm not trying to press you, Anastasia," I say gently. "I'm just trying to tell you I'm not going anywhere." I sigh, sliding my hands into my pockets to avoid reaching for her. "I had groceries delivered—the cabinets and fridge are full. If you need anything, please call me."

"I will," she says quietly.

I nod, pushing off the wall and finally giving in to the urge to run the backs of my fingers down her cheek—her eyes close slowly as she leans into my touch. "I love you, Anastasia," I remind her. "Whatever it is you think you need to prove, find it and come back to me."

A tear slides down her cheek as she wraps her arms around me, burying her head in my chest. "I love you, too," she whispers. "I'm sorry for this."

"So am I."

* * *

"This is such a mind fuck."

I snort a humorless laugh at Kate's choice of words as I sit beside her on the couch with our bowls of pasta. "Understatement," I mutter. "I couldn't make this up if I tried."

"Joe _and _José?" she asks. I nod. "I never would have thought..."

"Me neither," I answer. "I don't want to think that either of them actually wanted to hurt me, but as far as José goes, I was there when he admitted to being part of this huge plot to do just that."

"But it's not to hurt you," Kate says quietly, leaning towards me. "From what I've worked out, this is all about Christian."

"Yes," I agree, "but hurting Christian will hurt me. And it's bigger than just two guys who are apparently so in love with me that they'd go to ridiculous lengths to get me away from Christian; this is about—" I stop suddenly, reminding myself Kate isn't aware of exactly what kind of baggage Christian takes with him.

"It's about Christian having an affair with a married woman?" Kate suggests shrewdly. She rolls her eyes at my stunned expression. "Have you forgotten what I do for a living, Ana? It's my job to find things out and the moment I started hearing whispers that there is more to Christian than the rest of us think, I started digging."

I raise an eyebrow. "And when did you start hearing whispers?" I ask suspiciously.

"That day we had brunch and Elliot had to practically drag Joe out of the restaurant. He was going on about Christian being dark and abusive and how Elliot needed to get you away from him." She returns my raised eyebrow. "Want to shed some light on that?"

"Not particularly," I answer flatly. "Christian isn't abusive, Kate. I'd never expose my son to him if he was. When we first met, he did have certain..." I struggle for the right word, "_proclivities_ that aren't exactly common or widely accepted, but I'm not afraid of him; I don't think he's going to hurt me. Not like that."

"Proclivities?" she repeats, frowning. "Like what?"

Flushing, I shake my head. "Don't worry about it," I say quickly. "Just know he's more different now than he was when we met and I trust him with everything."

She's skeptical, but thankfully doesn't press for details. "Okay," she says, drawing the word out. "So how would Joe have found about any of this? He didn't know Christian before, did he?"

"I don't think so, but yes, he did have an affair with someone and her ex-husband is causing this trouble. It also seems as though he's Joe's uncle. So wouldn't it stand to reason that Joe's uncle could have told him?"

"I suppose. And aside from the obvious, Joe always seemed like a decent guy who would want to keep you safe if he thought you were in danger." She pauses, shaking her head. "I can't even believe we're having this conversation. I mean, I always knew there was something off about Christian, something... dark, but this type of thing never occurred to me."

I sigh, recalling all the times she questioned my relationship with Christian, wondering if I was in over my head. She had no idea at the time just how accurate her assumptions were, but now there's no hiding it. "From the very beginning, Christian thought I was naïve in my innocence and blind to all the apparent 'admirers' I had. He thought I was too trusting of people to see their true intentions." I roll my eyes of myself. "Apparently he was right."

"Ana, no," Kate implores. "I mean, yes, you were always a bit clueless when it came to how José fell about you or that guy you worked with at the hardware store. Hell, there were a dozen guys who would have jumped at a chance with you. I've told you enough times: You're hot. You're smart and independent and a total spitfire when you get pissed off—what's not to love?" I glare at her smirk. "You weren't exactly in the best place over the last year, Ana; it's only natural to put your trust into a friend and I know if you'd ever gotten even a hint that Joe had other intentions, you would have shut it down."

"I'm not so sure," I say bleakly. "Honestly, Kate, if not for you and Elliot getting married and Christian reacting the way he has since finding out about Caleb, I probably would have ended up trying things with Joe. I was so convinced it was better for everyone if I stayed on the other side of the country and kept Caleb from Christian, because it would be nothing short of disaster if I did anything else. But the truth is I stayed in Savannah for so long to protect myself—not just my son. I didn't want to see the look of rejection and hatred when I told Christian the truth and I was afraid any attempt would only end in pain for me. Since then I've been keeping him at arm's length because I am fucking terrified he's going to realize how selfish I really am."

Realization dawns on Kate's face. "_That's_ why," she whispers. My brow furrows. "Ana, I've been trying to figure out for weeks why you seem to be retreating further away from him, why you two have been fighting so much. I figured it was relationship growing pains or something, and once the two of you got over yourselves, you'd be fine. But you feel guilty, don't you? Not just about keeping Caleb a secret, but because you considered blurring the friendship line with Joe."

"Of course I do," I say through gritted teeth. "I knew the day I left Christian last year that having a relationship with another man was going to be difficult, and I never really wanted to be with anybody else, but it was getting to the point that I was lonely and I had to think about my son's future. If I was going to be so determined to keep Christian out of our lives, I needed to consider a father figure for him. Joe was there; he was convenient..."

Kate's eyes widen at my words and I realize the implication of what I just said. "You didn't..." she breathes.

"No!" I say loudly. "God, no, Kate, I never so much as kissed Joe. When it came down to it, I know I'd never be able to go through with it. I still loved Christian and the thought of being with anybody else was sickening. It felt like I'd be cheating on him—which is ridiculous, since we were broken up."

Kate sighs, studying my closely. "Do you remember those two weeks I came to stay with you last year? You were about four months pregnant and I said I just missed you and wanted to help out?" I nod warily. "That wasn't entirely accurate. Elliot and I broke up, and I needed to get out of Seattle for a while. We'd gotten into a fight about something stupid—probably me repeatedly running Christian down. But it built up to the point that neither of us could be in the same room together without fighting. One night, I kicked him out of the apartment and told him we were done. He said fine, stomped out, slammed the door, and I didn't hear from him for a couple days until he dropped by one evening to bring me a box of stuff I'd left at his place. I tried to apologize to him, but he ignored me and left again. The second he walked out the door that first time I regretted it; I think he did, too, but we were both too stubborn to admit it.

"The final straw was one evening I went out with a couple girls from work to this little bar. Elliot was there with some blonde. I just stood there watching for a bit and at first, I thought it was innocent—I thought I recognized her from his office—but the second he saw me, the whole thing escalated. He was all over her—he never kissed her that I saw, never more than a few caresses whenever I looked that way, but he was obviously trying to make me jealous. I bolted that night for Savannah because if I didn't, I'd have done something I could never fix. When I got back to Seattle, Elliot was waiting here for me and he told me the girl he was with at the bar was not only in a serious relationship of her own, but would have been much more interested in me than in him. She dragged him out after work because he'd been moping around the place. He still felt guilty for hurting me, making me think he'd moved on. He said it felt like he'd cheated even though we weren't together, because I still had his heart. That was the night he proposed. Obviously, I forgave him and he forgave me for everything I said to him the night I kicked him out, and we've been good since."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, shocked at her story.

"Because you were suffering enough," she says simply. "I didn't want to add my troubles to the mix. And it worked out in the end, didn't it? So don't you think you and Christian can work it out?"

I want to say yes, to believe it would be that simple for Christian and me to go on with our lives once all this trouble is over and be happy together for the rest of our lives. But it seems that everything I do drives the wedge further between us. Is it because I feel guilty about ever considering a possible future with Joe? Is it because I'm simply afraid of getting hurt? Christian has said over and over that losing me and his son would kill him; it's the same for me.

"Look, whatever happened between you two before you went to your dad's... is it worth risking losing each other over?" Kate asks. I don't answer immediately even though the answer is a loud, resounding, unequivocal no; nothing is worth that. Kate smiles knowingly. "Then show him that. Even when you're fighting, the two of you are happier together than you are apart. I saw him while you were in Montesano, Ana, and I've never seen a man so torn up over something. I might not been with you at Ray's, but I know you well enough to know you weren't much better. And the way he tore out of his parents' house the day he went after you because José was there... Honestly, with how pale he was, I'm shocked he even made it out the front door."

I can only imagine the panic Christian felt when he realized what was happening in Montesano. We haven't really talked about it, I realize suddenly, have hardly discussed the plot formed by Elena's ex-husband, my two former friends, and quite possibly the bitch troll herself. I've been too focused on hurt feelings to focus on the reason those feelings were hurt. It's a wonder Christian hasn't just written me off for once again not worrying about my own well-being and the bigger picture. He could so easily decide I'm not worth the trouble, petition for custody of Caleb on the grounds that he could provide for him better than I could, and push me out of his life for good.

He hasn't done that, though. Why? Simple answer: He loves me despite everything and I love him despite everything, and the only future in which either of us could be happy is one where we are together.

"I need to show him," I whisper, mostly to myself.

Kate beams at the words. "And I know exactly how to make that happen..."

* * *

In the two days since bringing Ana and Caleb back from Montesano, I haven't had much opportunity to see them. Every time I attempt it, something business-related needs my attention. The longest I've had with my family was the twenty minutes I spent with them this morning at breakfast. I told Ros to only contact me if it was an emergency; the only reason she and about a dozen other people aren't on the unemployment line right now is because it actually _was_ an emergency. A deal we've been working on for years overseas has been compromised and the only way to salvage all the work we've put in is for me to fly out this evening.

Leaving Seattle means more than just not being able to see Ana and Caleb; it means I won't be nearby in case of a security breach. As a result, I've decided to have Sawyer accompany on this trip, leaving Taylor to keep an eye out for Ana. She's much more comfortable with him than any of the other security team members and I'm hoping that means she won't put up a fuss about following his orders.

Though I'm pushing the time restraints, before heading to the airport, I stop to see Ana and Caleb. I've already told her about my trip and the disappointment in her voice was evident. I actually smiled when I heard it; it's a relief to know I'm not the only one frustrated by yet another separation. I arrive just as Ana is putting food onto plates for the two of us and find Caleb strapped into a chair at the table babbling away happily, giving me his toothless grin when he finds me. That still amazes me; he trusted me from the first night we met even when I didn't trust myself. Flynn's words about children being born with love and trust come back to me and I finally realize he was right.

"What are you thinking about?" Ana asks softly as she leans against the wall of the kitchen.

I smile. "Just how much my life has changed since you and Caleb became part of it," I answer honestly. "And how badly I wish time would slow down so I don't have to keep walking away from you."

"It won't always be like this," she promises me in a whisper. I frown, wondering why she seems so certain, but don't reply as we sit down to dinner. "How long will you be gone?"

"Hopefully not long," I answer wryly. "In theory, this should be a day's work, two at most, and the deal will be closed, and I can come home."

She nods silently and for once I can't figure out what she's thinking.

Sighing, I sit back in my seat. "I'll be in contact as often as I can," I say softly. "But while I'm gone, Ana, please—_please_—promise me you'll follow Taylor's security protocols. It was hard enough being an hour and a half away and getting that fucking picture of you and Caleb; I wouldn't be able to handle it while I'm on a separate continent."

"I promise I'll be a good girl for Taylor," she says, trying to lighten the mood with a joking tone.

I narrow my eyes at her. "And why is it you'll behave for him but not for me, Miss Steele?" I ask, only slightly joking. "It's almost as though you enjoy seeing me lose my control."

Her head jerks up to meet my gaze. "No," she whispers. "I don't, I just..." She trails off looking lost.

I could sit here for however much longer before I need to leave and watch her struggle to find the right words or I could save us both the frustration and drop it. I opt for the latter. "It's okay," I assure her. "I just don't like the idea of leaving you when I haven't really had much time with you to begin with. I wish we could just find our way past this."

She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "When you come back," she says quietly, "we'll figure this out once and for all. We'll put everything on the table regardless of how we think it will make the other feel—it's the only way forward that I can see."

"Yes," I agree immediately. "That's exactly what I want—what I've wanted from the beginning."

"Okay, then," she says decisively. "Until you get back."

It's not long before I get a message from Taylor reminding me that it's time we get to the airport. I have just enough time to help put Caleb to bed and long before I'm ready, Ana and I are standing at the door of the apartment. This is becoming a habit—the two of us saying goodbye, however temporarily it might be—and I cannot wait until this is over.

"Be safe," I murmur, cupping her cheek. "That is not a request, Miss Steele. If you need anything, call Taylor, day or night. And of course you can call me, too. I want you to call me if you need me. For _anything._" The suggestive inflection on the last word isn't lost on her and I smirk proudly. When her mouth drops open in shock, I take advantage of the opportunity to crush myself against her, fusing my lips to hers and kissing her with every bit of emotion for her that I can summon. She returns every bit as good, letting me press her against the door so we can lose ourselves for what little time we have left for now. Groaning, I force myself to pull away from her. "I have to go." My forehead rests against hers as we both try to catch our breath. "I love you, Ana. I'll see you soon."

She nods breathlessly, pushing away from the door and opening it for me. I've procrastinated long enough at this point and if I don't leave now, my flight will be delayed. The last time that happened, I was stuck at an airport for nearly three hours. It doesn't matter if you have a private jet or not; you still have to follow your flight schedule strictly. With one final smile, I leave the apartment, turning just before I'm out of sight and find her watching me. For once, I actually feel okay about leaving her even if it's the last thing I want to do. This is different, though; I can't explain exactly what it is, but I could see something new in her eyes, something I've never seen before and I'm very much looking forward to finding out what it means.

* * *

It's been nearly three days since Christian left on business and aside from a handful of phone calls and a Skype session that still makes me grin just thinking about it, I haven't heard much from him. I know it's because he's dedicating every second to finishing up whatever he's doing so he can get back. We haven't spoken much about the trouble surrounding us—only enough for him to tell me his team is still trying to track down Linc. It seems Elena has gone missing as well and I can't help but hope someone has thrown her of a cliff. We also haven't discussed our future together; he seems content to leave it until he gets back. And that suits me just fine; Kate and I have been finalizing my plans and I'm eager to put them into motion.

When my cell phone rings at nearly ten at night, I eagerly jump across the room, knowing it's probably Christian since he emailed earlier to say he'd be calling late.

"It's about time," I tease when I answer. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten me."

When I'm met with silence on the other end, I pull my phone away to check who's calling, but the number is unknown. I curse myself for not checking before and start to apologize to whoever I was practically flirting with when I hear a chuckle. "Hello, Ana," the familiar voice says. "It's Joe."


	33. Chapter 33

Following several frustrating hours locked in a board room negotiating terms and conditions, the only thing I want to do is get back to my hotel room and go to sleep. First, though, I know the only way to relieve my stress is to hear Anastasia's voice. The time difference has been a struggle, forcing me to skip hours of sleep just so I'll be able to talk to her before she herself goes to bed. Her rest is far more important than mine considering I know Caleb keeps her busy enough during the day; any rest she can get is a commodity. As I reach the bank of elevators that will take me to the parking garage, I spot Sawyer rushing to catch up from where he's been waiting for the meeting to end.

"We should have everything wrapped up tomorrow evening," I inform him as the elevator arrives. "So we'll be flying home Friday morning at the latest."

"Sir, I just received a call from Taylor," he says, ignoring what I just told him.

Immediately I'm on high alert. "Ana and Caleb," I demand. "Are they okay?"

"Yes," he quickly assures me. "No one is hurt; protocol hasn't been breached. But Miss Steele was contacted this evening by Mr. Battaglia via a phone call. When the call ended, she immediately contacted Taylor and he is now working on tracing the call."

Fucking Battaglia. I should have given him more than a broken nose the morning of the disastrous post-engagement brunch with my family. "Thank you, Sawyer. Back to the hotel now."

As we drive, I call Ana, not surprised that she picks up on the first ring despite the late hour—clearly she's been expecting my call. "What did he want?" I demand in lieu of a proper greeting.

She sighs exhaustedly. "He claimed he wanted to apologize," she answers. "I didn't really give him much of a chance what with telling him I know what he was doing and that I wanted nothing more to do with him, and that if he comes near us again he'll discover you aren't the only one who can throw a punch."

I grin proudly at her words. "Did he say anything else?"

"Only that he didn't mean for it to be like this and he didn't realize his uncle was as crazy as his ex-wife," she says dryly. "Which I assume means Joe knows Elena; not much of a comfort if you ask me."

I sigh. "No, it's not," I agree. "But at least we know for sure they're in on it together and it's not some ridiculous coincidence."

"Right. It's just a ridiculous reality." Ana yawns and I smile indulgently. "I'm sorry I didn't call you first, but I knew you were busy."

"Baby, it's fine. You did exactly what needed to be done. Taylor can do far more than I can right now and he knows who to contact to get the job done. Now, with any luck, I should be home sometime on Friday and I was hoping I could come straight to you and Caleb. I don't want to be away from you two any longer than I have to, especially if Battaglia is trying to worm his way in again."

"Christian." Her tone is exasperated. "Do you really think I'd let him back in after all this?"

I don't answer since I still don't really know how she's handling the betrayal of two supposed friends. She hears my hesitance.

"I wouldn't."

I swallow hard. "I know. But let's not talk about that now. You're tired; sleep. I'll call as soon as I know when we'll be leaving here."

She hums and I know she's close to falling asleep completely. "Love you," she murmurs. I can almost see her with the phone tucked between her ear and the pillow.

"I love you, too, Anastasia," I say softly. "More than you'll ever know."

* * *

In the time between Grace leaving with Caleb and Christian's arrival, I've managed to work myself into a panic. Every time Christian has planned some sort of surprise for me, it's been amazing and romantic, and I've got a lot to live up to. It doesn't help that the couple of times I've tried to surprise him, it's backfired spectacularly—my surprise arrival in Seattle the night of the _Charlie Tango_ accident and showing up at his office only to see Elena Lincoln walk out come to mind.

It's more than that, though; I want him to see I care enough to do something like this for him. I may not have his imagination or unlimited budget, but I think I can pull off a simple candlelight dinner for two. In an attempt to relax myself, I prepared enough bottles for Caleb to allow me to have a couple glasses of wine with Christian. Considering dinner and romance isn't the only thing on the agenda tonight, I think I'm going to need it. Our conversation has every potential of getting extremely messy and it'll be easier for both of us if we have a bit of liquid fortification.

As I finish drying my hair, I hear a knock on the door and glance at the clock in surprise. Not even a flight delay could keep this man from being annoyingly punctual. I run my hands down my body, smoothing my dress and letting out a shaky breath as I head towards the door. Though I know without a doubt who is standing on the other side, I take a moment to look through the peephole, knowing he'll lecture me if I don't. There is a lot in tonight's plans, but lecturing isn't part of it.

Finally, I pull open the door and I'm faced with Christian Grey, CEO bad boy with his stubbled jaw, messy hair, and clothes in disarray. His white linen shirt is partially untucked from his perfectly fitting pants, his tie loose around his neck, and he's got one shoulder resting against the doorframe as he takes me in at the same time. I swear he licks his lips when he reaches low neckline of my dress and he's practically salivating by the time he reaches my legs.

"Anastasia," he says, slowly dragging his gaze back up to meet mine. He swallows hard. "You look..."

I raise an eyebrow when he trails off, waiting for him to think of a word. When I realize he's unable, I bite my lip against a triumphant smile. His eyes narrow and darken at the site. Before he can reach out to tug my lip from my teeth, I step back, holding the door open for him to enter. He does so slowly, his eyes widening at the dim lighting, soft music, and the smell of dinner in the air. I close the door and lean against it as he turns, raising an eyebrow at me in return.

"And here I thought this was just a casual evening with my family..."

"It is," I say lightly.

He smirks. "And where is our son?" he asks with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"With your parents for the night," I answer, pushing myself off the door and heading towards the kitchen. "Make yourself at home, Mr. Grey." I toss the words over my shoulder, catching the surprise on his face. Without looking, I know he'll have schooled that expression to an impassive one as he removes his suit jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair as he follows me into the kitchen. While I check on dinner, he wraps his arms around my waist and buries his nose in my hair.

"I missed you," he whispers, his lips against my ear. "Being away from you is torture, Ana."

I get the impression he's referring to much more than just this business trip. "I missed you, too," I say, leaning my head back against his chest and holding his arms more securely around my middle. "That's why I did this."

He hums against my temple. "And what, exactly, is this?"

"A romantic dinner for two," I answer, feeling drunk even without the benefit of the wine chilling in the next room. "Just us, uninterrupted, enjoying each other's company. I glance up at him, suddenly uncertain when I see the obvious exhaustion etched into his face. "Unless you're too tired..."

He smiles, resting his cheek against mine. "I will never be too tired for you, Ana," he says softly.

"Good," I say simply, stepping out of his hold. "There's wine in the dining room if you want. Dinner should be ready soon."

It takes me a few minutes to convince him he doesn't need to help and that he should go relax for a bit. I use the time alone to get my thoughts in order. There is so much Christian and I need to say to each other tonight—every fear and insecurity we have in regards to ourselves, our future, and each other. I've spent the last few days preparing how to say everything that needs saying, knowing that whichever way I lay it out, there is every chance he'll take it the wrong way. That is, I believe, one of our biggest problems right now. We misinterpret every word, every action, twist it into something way worse than it really is—which is saying something, since some of our actions have been incredibly horrible.

But this needs to happen if we have any chance at moving forward. We can't hide anymore; we can't run anymore. All it's doing is hurting each other, not to mention Caleb. He's still so young, but he needs stability and a reliable routine. Repeatedly uprooting him from one place to another can't be good for him. It's not good for any of us.

"I don't know much about cooking, but I'm pretty sure the food isn't supposed to catch fire."

Startled, I glance down at the stove where a corner of a dish towel has managed to find its way onto the heating element and is smoking. Before I have the chance to remove it, Christian does it for me, dropping it in the sink and turning on the water. "Thanks," I mutter embarrassedly.

"What are you thinking about so deeply that you're risking catching the apartment ablaze?" he asks, leaning beside me against the counter.

I give him a half-shrug. "A lot of things," I answer honestly. "Mostly about what we agreed on before you left—about laying everything on the table."

He nods slowly. "Yes, I'm a bit nervous about that myself," he replies. "It's long overdue, though, isn't it? Needs to be done?"

"I think so," I say quietly.

"It'll be okay," he promises, pulling me to stand in front of him. "Ana, there is nothing you could say to me that would change the way I feel about you."

"The reverse is true for me," I say. "I'm just tired of us hurting each other over and over again."

"Well, we'll just have to stop hurting each other," he says simply, pulling me closer to him.

I huff a laugh, resting my head against his chest. "You say it like it's easy," I murmur. His only response is to hold me tighter. We stand like this for several minutes until a timer goes off and I pull away to take a lasagna from the oven. "If you want to grab the salad," I nod my head towards the bowl on the counter, "I'll meet you at the table."

"Of course," Christian says. He hesitates before leaving the kitchen as though he wants to say something, but he shakes his head and walks away.

Carrying our two plates to the table, I'm nervous again, uncertain. If we manage to get through tonight in one piece, I know how I want things to end, but I'm trying to take this minute by minute. It's the only way to stop me from having an anxiety attack.

"This looks wonderful, Ana," Christian says, grinning and taking a bite. "And it tastes even better."

I smile shyly, reaching for the wine bottle to pour some into a glass. Christian raises an eyebrow, but surprisingly doesn't comment. We eat in silence for a few minutes and I think he's waiting for me to start our conversation. I take a deep breath, releasing it slowly as I steady my nerves and wonder if it's possible to quiet the pounding of my heart in my ears. "I should have trusted you," I whisper, fidgeting with my wine glass. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Christian pause and stiffen, his fork halfway to his mouth, and he looks at me questioningly. "When I found out I was pregnant, I should have trusted you enough to make your own decision regarding Caleb."

He sighs, resting his fork against his plate. "Ana, we've been through this," he says tiredly. "I don't know how I would have reacted to that news last year. I've thought about that so much since I found out about him, Ana, and the only conclusion I've come to is that it wouldn't have been positive. I was in a dark place, one I've been in all my life, and I've been working all this time to claw my out. Since you've been back in my life, and I've gone back to seeing Flynn regularly, and he's made me see that I had to lose you last year to realize what I wanted. I wasn't ready for you and Caleb last year—not by a fucking long shot. Hell, even now there are times that I think I'm not ready." He pauses. "Let me ask you this: when you found out you were pregnant, and throughout your pregnancy, and even after he was born... did you ever think about how things would be if you _had_ told me?"

"All the time," I answer. "Practically every night I thought about all the different scenarios—you being overjoyed at the prospect of becoming a father; you, angry with me, accusing me of getting pregnant on purpose to trap you; you deciding that you would want our son, but not me and dragging me through the courts for custody. I thought about every last possibility. I thought that, even if I had still left you, I should have told you. You deserved to know, but I was afraid. My heart was broken when I left Seattle and it's still mending."

"You left me, Anastasia," he reminds me softly. "Not the other way around. How do you think I felt? You were the first woman I ever considered changing for and I didn't understand what that meant until you were gone, and by then, I knew it was too late. As much as it scared me, even though I didn't realize it, I'd fallen in love for the first and last time in my life. You leaving made me believe that I truly wasn't deserving of being loved—how could I be when the love of my life was ripped away from me after such a short time? _That_ is why had those submissives, but every time I was with them, all I saw was you, and I hated myself for it. I had to suffer this last year to make me realize I could be more. I couldn't have you in my life and I needed an outlet. I tried to deny everything I felt about you; otherwise it would have torn me apart. And for the record, would never take you to court for custody. More than anyone else, I know what it's like to grow up without a mother and I would never put my son through that pain. Yes, I deserved to know. Yes, you should have trusted me. But it is what it is."

I nod in agreement. "I just wish I could take it back. So many times when I was pregnant, I wanted you there with me. I wanted you to experience him kicking for the first time and to hold my hair when I had morning sickness and at every doctor's appointment. I fucked up."

"We've _both_ fucked up, Ana," he corrects me. "I sent you away when I shouldn't have—I should have trusted _you_ to make the decision to leave or not."

"Maybe," I reply. "But I think we both know what would have happened if you'd told me the truth—I never would have left." He cracks a small smile, rolling his eyes. "Christian, even though I knew the whole thing was a lie, the things you said still hurt."

He closes his eyes as though he's in pain. "I know," he whispers. "And I wish there was some way to make it up to you."

"I'm sure you will," I say wryly. "You always do." I take another deep breath. "Look, the way I see it, we're doing this because we're both hurt and trying to protect ourselves. Maybe that's not a good enough excuse, but it's the best I have right now."

For a few moments, he loses himself in thought. Looking back at me, he nods. "Do you think there's a chance we can find a way through it?"

"I hope so," I whisper.

"So do I. Ana, right now, I want what I always wanted—you, any way I can get you. You hurt me; I hurt you and now we're even."

"This isn't about being even," I say. "It's not a contest. We're each scared that the other person is going to walk away. That is what we need to overcome; otherwise, we'll spend so much time worrying that it will be impossible to be happy."

Leaning back in his chair, Christian examines me thoughtfully. "You're right. So in the interest of learning to trust one another again, do you think you can forgive me for hurting you and sending you away?"

"If you can forgive me for running and hiding Caleb for you," I answer.

"I forgave you weeks ago," he says. "I won't deny it hurt to realize you were so afraid from me that you never told me, but I can also understand your reticence. I'll never have that time back with you and Caleb, but I'm trying to make up for it now."

I nod. "You are. And I'm trying to find a way to make up for running every time things go sour. Without even realizing I'm doing it, I'm continuously pushing you even further away. I can't justify keeping you from Caleb."

"Ana, the more we dwell on this, the worse it seems. I'm tired of having the same discussion over and over again. This is what he wants—Linc. He wants to drive a wedge through us, separate us. The longer it goes on, the more he's won. I don't want this anymore—I never wanted it. We need to find a way through this, and not just for us; for Caleb, too. He deserves better."

"Yes, he does," I agree. "I told you I wanted to earn back my engagement ring. At the time, it seemed logical—we could both take the time to get our heads on straight and once we did, we could be together again. Now, though..." I shake my head. "Now it just seems ridiculous. Childish." Swallowing, I meet his gaze, hoping like hell I can get the words out. "I ran from you when you were trying to protect me. I ran to protect myself. I shouldn't have. Maybe this was my way of punishing you for what you said to me that night. Not that I have much room to deal out punishments. Maybe those things you said were your way of punishing me for keeping our son a secret. Either way, I wanted to be absolutely certain that we could work out."

"And are you?" he breathes, looking weary as he awaits my answer.

I give him a small smile. "For once, I've never been more certain about anything in my life. If we can forgive each other for everything we've done, there isn't a thing in this universe that can hurt us. I realize we're not actually broken up, but I want you back, Christian."

I barely get the words out before he takes my hand, yanking me from my chair to sit in his lap. My eyes widen at the impulsiveness, but he doesn't hesitate to crush his lips against mine. I moan against his lips, the kiss turning heated as he shifts me to straddle him. He pulls away briefly, urging me to open my eyes to look at him. "You never lost me, baby," he says. "I've been yours sine the day we met and that will never change. I'll always forgive you, we'll always find a way forward."

I nod, pressing our lips together to continue our kiss, but it doesn't seem he's done talking. He reaches for his jacket and rummages for a moment, holding me securely on his lap.

"Does this mean you'll wear this again?" he asks, showing me his hand that holds my engagement ring. I blink rapidly in surprise—has he been carrying it around since I gave it back to him.

"If you still want me to wear it," I breathe.

He smiles slowly, taking my left hand and sliding it onto my ring finger, then lifts it to his lips for a kiss. "Don't you dare take this off ever again," he growls.

"I won't," I promise.

Holding me tighter, he climbs to his feet and carries me down the hall to my bedroom. I ignore the part of me that is second guessing where we're going and what we're doing. We both need this—this reconnection—and I'm only realizing now just how desperate I've been for this to happen.

At least for tonight, only he and I exist in our little bubble world. Tomorrow will change that—there is still so much for us to overcome, but for once, I'm confident we _will_ overcome all of it.


	34. Chapter 34

As the sun rises and shines through the bedroom window, I don't take my eyes off the sleeping woman in my arms. Her face is completely relaxed as she dreams, her mind blissfully untroubled. Her long brown hair is mussed and I smirk as I recall exactly how it got that way. Even hours after she fell asleep, her lips remain swollen from kissing me and she still has a light blush on her skin. I haven't slept, afraid that if I close my eyes, she'll disappear. For the first time in weeks, I'm happy—beyond happy; ecstatic—and I'm not in a hurry to see that fade. Last night we made love repeatedly and in every variation, and in the time that we caught our breath, we talked about anything and everything. After we agreed to be completely honest with one another regardless of potentially hurt feelings, nothing has been off limit. There were a few subjects that could have caused arguments, but we heard each other out, put everything in context, and moved on.

One subject was Joe Battaglia and Ana's admission that she, at one point, considered a relationship with the dick. Judging by her tone, I don't think she ever would have actually gone through it—I'm beginning to believe she loves me as much as I love her. It didn't stop the jealousy that built up inside me or even questioning why she'd been so willing to give him a chance to take care of her and Caleb, but not me. Once again, she felt guilty for her actions last year and I kicked myself turning her honesty against her. I have to remind myself that despite the fact that we're in love and committed to our future, we really don't know each other as well as we'd like, and last year, we were practically strangers before she left. Of course she wouldn't want to expose her son to a man who, when she first met, wanted to tie her up in his playroom and beat the shit out of her. As upset as I'd been to realize she'd hidden Caleb from me, I can now see her point of view.

In return, I filled her in on my coping techniques while she was away—well, the ones that didn't involve shackles, canes, and a riding crop. I have had more sessions with Claude Bastille in the last year than have in the entire time I've been seeing the guy. It was a way to dispel angry, hurt, and confusion. After my workouts, I worked harder than ever, needing to keep my mind occupied. As a distraction, it worked for a while along with sessions with Flynn, at least until Elliot and Kate got engaged and I found out that I would be seeing Ana again. All my preparations for that first meeting, telling myself it didn't matter what happened between us, because at the end, she'd go back to her life in Savannah. A tiny part of my hoped seeing her again would show me what I felt for her was nothing more than a minor infatuation, a fleeting, meaningless obsession. I knew better, of course, and this was confirmed when I saw her at the Mile High Club with my family.

It still bemuses me when I think about the affect she has on me. The amount of frustration and anger she puts me through, the sadness and confusion, but mostly the overwhelming sense of elation and comfort—all of it, every second is precious to me because I know what it feels like to be without her and it's not something I could ever risk again. God knows I've done my very best to push her away—unintentionally, of course—and she's done the same to me. Last night was a hell of start in fixing our wrongs and just knowing she still wants us as much as I do has nearly taken the weight of the world off my shoulders. We still have a long way to go, a lot to overcome, but for the moment, she's with me and nothing else matters.

She shifts in my arms as she begins to wake and I turn onto my side so I can watch her open her eyes. Her breathing changes and a small smile plays on her lips as her hazy blue gaze meets mine. "Good morning, beautiful," I murmur, leaning in to kiss her before she has the opportunity to complain about morning breath.

"Good morning beautiful, yourself," she breathes when we part.

I smile at her. "How'd you sleep?"

She hums an answer, snuggling closer. "Very well," she answers. "You?"

"Same," I say quietly, resting my chin on her head. "But then I always sleep well with you at my side..."

She stiffens briefly and I realize it's because she's still thinking about all the unnecessary time we've spent apart.

"Don't," I warn her. "We're moving forward, Anastasia, no more blame, no more hesitation or uncertainty. I love you; we're together now, and that is what matters."

Meeting my gaze slightly warily, she nods. "Agreed." To my surprise and great appreciation, she rolls until she's straddling my hips. "I love you, too. And I know we want this to be over, but I still owe you an apology for what I put you through—what I put _us_ through." As she speaks she leans forward, her hair curtaining around our faces. "I'm sorry, Christian. You have no idea what it means to me that you've forgiven me. I'll never do this to us again. I promise."

I nod, reaching up to cup the back of her neck in my palm. "I know," I whisper. And I do. I can see it in her eyes. "And yes, I've forgiven you. I'll always forgive you. I'll always be your safe place. Just as you'll always be mine." She nods in confirmation of my words, her eyes wide and full of tears. Before any of them can fall, I bring her lips to mine, kissing her with everything I have, letting my hands roam her body.

She shifts and a moment later, I gasp as I slide inside her so slowly that I can feel every detail of her body, every detail I've committed to memory in our time together. I take her hands, interlocking our fingers and bringing them to rest above my head, and she begins to move, her forehead resting against mine.

"Slow, baby," I whisper when she tries to speed up her movements. "I need this slow. I want to feel all of you..."

She nods breathlessly and we move together, taking our time, building up until we can't take anymore. Burying her face in my neck, she cries out and I hold her against me, thrilling of the feeling of her around me. How is it possible that this only gets better between us? And if it keeps getting better, what are my chances of ever surviving her?

"Oh, Ana," I moan as I come. "Oh, I love you."

"I love you, too," she mouths against my neck.

* * *

After a shower that involved yet again getting ourselves dirty so we can get clean, Christian and I find our way towards the kitchen where he pulls himself up onto the counter and watches me cook breakfast. It's a pose I never imagined seeing him in, his legs dangling and the heels of his bare feet resting against the cabinet doors. At this moment, he doesn't look anything like the multi-billionaire CEO that takes no prisoners in or out of the boardroom despite his ridiculously expensive suit pants, shirt, and jacket. Even his tie is hanging loosely around his neck as he grins at me with messy copper hair. He's perfect; me, less so in a loose sweatshirt, jeans, and hastily tied back hair that's still damp from the shower. I'm still not sure what he sees in me, especially after everything, but for once I'm not questioning it. I see everything he feels for me in his eyes and it never fails to warm me from the inside out.

Snagging a piece of bacon from the plate as I set it down beside him, he speaks. "So as much as I hate to say it, I need to go into the office today," he says apologetically. "I should have gone straight there last night rather than ignoring my work to spend the evening with you, but aside from it being well worth the extra paperwork I'll have today, I will always rather be with you than anywhere else."

I snap out of my daze caused by his words in time to keep our pancakes from burning and ignore the deep chuckle from behind me when he realizes he's affected me. He hops off the counter to help with arranging our plates and pouring glasses of orange juice. Seated at the table, we sneak darting glances at one another as we begin to eat. "I suppose we'll meet you at Escala tonight, then?" I ask him, pushing my pancake through a glob of syrup. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his entire body stiffen just as it did last night when I began our conversation. Dread fills my blood in reaction.

"What?" I whisper. I had assumed that since we've begun working through our issues in a way that banished every other negative feeling. Was I wrong? Is he still holding a grudge despite what he's said? "I thought..."

His gaze snaps to me when he hears my tone and he's immediately shaking his head. "Ana, relax," he commands, reaching for my hand. "All I meant was that rather than going back to Escala, I thought we could go instead to the new house. All of us—together."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Oh," I say in relief, looking away from his narrowed eyes. "So soon?"

Raising an eyebrow, he leans back. "Now it seems as though you're the one backing away," he says quietly, his gaze darkening with uncertainty.

I choke out a laugh, wondering how long it will be before we can say things without causing the other one to panic. "No, I thought we'd move there once we were married."

"Ah," he says quietly a small, sheepish smile. "Yes, about that... I was thinking we could have the wedding there, right on the edge of the water. I remember the look on your face as the sun went down and I haven't been able to imagine marrying you anyplace else since then."

Sucking in a breath, I imagine the scene his words describe and he's right: I can't imagine a more perfect place for us, for a new start. "I'd like that," I whisper shyly.

He returns with a shy smile of his own that makes him look his age and makes me fall deeper in love with him. "It's settled then," he breathes, reaching over to tug my lip from my teeth. "After work, I'll come for you and Caleb, and we'll go home."

I nod, not bothering to ask about the details or wonder about packing our belongings at Escala. I'm sure he has a team of people doing it for us. Instead, we enjoy our breakfast together, stealing glances at every opportunity and grinning when we catch the other looking back. Before long, Christian sighs, glancing at his watch.

"I have to go," he says apologetically, taking my hands and pulling me to my feet into a kiss that could so easily make us forget everything that's happened. Groaning, he pulls away and I silently curse his ability to control his reactions; at this point, I'd happily let him drag me back to bed if he wanted. "I shouldn't be too late tonight, but I'll let you know when I have a better idea." He presses his lips against mine in a chaste kiss, then backs away completely. "In the meantime, I love you."

"I love you, too," I whisper. He winks and I can see the happiness in his eyes at my words.

With a parting glance, he leaves the apartment and I'm counting down the minutes until I see him again.

* * *

"I don't remember the last time I saw you smiling this much."

I glance up from making faces at Caleb to find Grace watching me with a knowing expression. Flushing, I avert my gaze. "Well, it's been a while since I've had much to smile about," I say honestly.

"Does this mean you and my son have worked out your issues?" she asks shrewdly. My smile only widens, my blush darkening as I recall last night. Grace only smiles. "I'm glad to hear it. He spent such a long time lost and unable to find happiness, before and after meeting you. For a time, Carrick and I feared he'd never know what it is to feel love; he hid behind anger and abandonment, and while I like to think we made great strides in keeping him from a similar fate as his birthmother, I'm not sure how effective we were." She frowns, her lips twisting in disgust. "The night of his birthday with Elena..." She shakes her head. "Believe me, Ana, I would have done way worse than slap her—any mother would after learning about what a so-called friend had done to her child. I'm sure you know that." I nod, knowing I'd have ripped off the bitch's arms if I'd needed to. "I can't help but wonder where he would be if not for that woman."

"He told me once he believed he would have gone the way of his birthmother if not for Elena," I say hesitantly. "He said she taught him control in all things, kept him from drinking and fighting."

Grace purses her lips. "Even if that is true, I refuse to be grateful to Elena Lincoln for anything. Carrick and I should have seen something was going on—we didn't want to question it; for once he was voluntarily spending time with us and we turned a blind eye, choosing to believe his therapy was finally starting to work. My husband and I had our son back; my other children had their brother. Christian was never perfect, of course, and he never will be, but for a few years, my family was whole." Grace's expression changes suddenly and she's looking at me with awe in her eyes. "And then you came along. He was so different than he'd ever been, there was a new light in his eyes. He was _happy_." She says it as though it's a foreign concept, which I suppose it would be for those who knew him before he met me. "And that is all down to you, Ana."

I shift uncomfortably, wondering if she's going to bring up last year. "I don't know how responsible I am for that," I mutter.

"Maybe not, but the rest of us do. I won't put you through the uncomfortable discussion of what he went through after you left, but I do have to ask—why did you go? Why did you keep Caleb from him?"

It doesn't escape my notice that her tone doesn't hold the accusation I thought would be there if we ever talked about this; I don't think I could handle more guilt at this point and certainly not from somebody as wonderful as Grace. "I shouldn't have," I say quietly, playing with my son's hands. "I should have told him about Caleb and we've had this discussion so many times I feel like a broken record. When it comes down to it, I doubted that he would accept me or the baby." I take a deep breath, throwing myself back in time to a year ago when Christian and I were curled up on the bed in his guest bedroom, knowing we were reaching the end of our relationship. "The day I left, I told Christian that I had fallen in love with him, and his response was to tell me how wrong it was for me to love him and how he thought he couldn't make me happy. I had nightmares about that day. I wanted him to know he was going to be a father, but I was afraid that if that's how he reacted to hearing that I love him, his reaction to finding out about a child could only be much worse. I didn't want to put anyone through that..." I shake my head at myself, hardly seeing Grace's sympathetic expression. "I thought it would be easier to just move on."

"And now?" she asks gently.

I smile. "Now I can't believe how stupid I was," I say wryly. "Christian has turned out to be an amazing father—I love watching him and Caleb together. I can't give this up ever again. I've finally realized that I need Christian as much as he seems to need me—he's told me often enough, but regardless, I doubted it."

"Well, no more of that," Grace says sternly. "You three belong together; it's time to push the fear away and embrace your future. Don't you think?"

Nodding, I smile, wondering how it's possible for someone to be so kind to a person who has repeatedly hurt their son. Looking at Caleb, I wonder if I'd be capable of the same thing, then I realize that as long as he is happy, I would do almost anything. "Yes, I think so," I whisper, suddenly eager for Christian's work day to end so we can do exactly that: Embrace our future.

Grace remains for a while longer until she realizes the time and needs to get home to meet Carrick. Apparently they're attending some sort of benefit this evening. Grace doesn't seemed thrilled by the prospect, but informs me it's a necessity in society life, and the look she gives me says I have that to look forward to once things with Christian and me calm down a bit. Caleb is fast asleep so I set him in his crib before walking Grace out to her car. She makes me promise that Christian, Caleb, and I will be in Bellevue on Sunday for a family dinner, and I wave as her car disappears.

Back inside the apartment, I start cleaning up and packing our bags, wondering vaguely whether Christian intends for us to go back to Escala for our things, then realize he's probably got moving trucks there right now to do just that. I then wonder if I'll ever get used to Christian being able do just about anything with his unlimited means and funds. I'm thinking not...

I stop suddenly as I finish drying a few dishes when I hear something within the apartment. Nothing loud, possibly just my imagination, but when I hear a very muffled, dull sound again in the direction of Caleb's room, I know better. Automatically, I'm walking down the hall, hoping the sound came from another apartment. When I reach the door, I silently pray I'm wrong about where my mind is taking my thoughts. I push the door open and dart my eyes around the room, sighing in relief and laughing at myself when I find nothing out of the ordinary. Caleb is still fast asleep in his crib, even as I pick him up and everything is as it should be. "Mommy's getting paranoid, baby boy," I whisper in his hair.

With him in my arms, I turn around, intending to take a few minutes and just sit down with my son, but the moment I do, I realize I'm not paranoid. I did hear somebody in the apartment and he's standing in the open doorway. Even though I only met him once or twice, his face has been etched into my mind for weeks, ever since Christian and I made the connection between him and all the trouble that seems to be following us.

"Hello, Anastasia," he says quietly, his hulking frame blocking my only escape. On instinct, I glance towards the windows knowing they're no use. The locks require a key to open them and the key is on a ring in the kitchen. Vaguely, I wonder if I break it whether it will set off the alarm I know is installed. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"What do you want?" I ask, trying to remain calm as I angle Caleb as far from Linc as possible. "How'd you get in here?"

He chuckles, leaning against the doorframe in a move reminiscent of Christian. "That doesn't really matter, does it?" he asks dismissively. "I'm here, you're here... let's talk, shall we?"

"What could you and I possibly have to talk about?" I ask, playing for time. Doesn't Christian have Sawyer stationed outside the apartment building? I spotted him in the SUV when I walked Grace outside. He even opened the door to get out and join us before I waved him off, silently telling him it was unnecessary.

"If you're expecting one of Grey's GI Joes to come charging in, you can stop. That one outside has rocks for brains; he ain't coming for you..."

_Oh fuck..._

The only thing I can think to do is back up enough that I can drop Caleb into his crib. Linc watches me with something akin to amusement in his eyes as I protectively step in front of my still sleeping son. I'm hoping his tendency to sleep through anything holds up tonight... "Okay," I say, trying to calm my pounding heart. "What do you want to talk about?"

Linc chuckles. "You would have been so better off with Joe, Anastasia," he informs me. "We wouldn't have to go through this awful encounter." His eyes dart towards Caleb, lips twisting in distaste. "But for starters, let's just say I have very little interest in you or your little spawn."

"Then what?" I ask, whispering. "What could you possibly want?"

"Everything I want lies with Grey," he says easily. "And unfortunately for you, the things he treasures aren't his worldly goods or his fortune." Linc reaches behind him, beneath his jacket, and pulls out a pistol, holding it at his side.

I should be terrified, and some small part of me is, but mostly, I'm fucking pissed at the man in front of me putting my son in this situation. Whatever happens, Caleb is my priority, above all else; even myself. I can almost hear Christian's voice in my head, berating me for my lack of self-preservation; it almost makes me smile...

"Why do you hate him so much?" I ask Linc. "His affair with your wife was over almost a decade ago." _I really hope Christian was being honest about that..._

"_Ex-_wife," Linc snarls, his gun hand twitching. "And it's not so much the affair as the fact that he took something that was _mine_, not his. That little delinquent shit fucked _my wife_ repeatedly and in ways your pretty little head couldn't even begin to comprehend. Oh..." He chuckles at the look on my face, shaking his head. "They thought I was so fucking stupid, so clueless... I've got enough on Grey to ruin him, his company... his entire fucking life at the snap of my fingers." His fingers snap for effect.

I swallow hard. "So you have... what, photos?" Why am I asking? I have a feeling he's going to answer in detail and this really isn't something I ever want to have in my head.

"Better than that," he boasts. "I've got video. Not just him and Elena... No. That wouldn't be nearly enough, especially since she showed just how sick and twisted she was fucking the kid of her so-called best friend."

Before I can be informed about what else he has on video, we hear something out in the hallway, muffled voices, then what sounds like the door being broken down. Linc glances over his shoulder and I take my chance, charging towards him. Predictably, he catches my movement out of the corner of his eye, and I get the very briefest of glances of Christian rushing towards us looking more furious than I thought anyone could ever look before Linc raises his gun hand and hits me in the head with the butt of it. The last thing I hear as my vision goes black and I fall to the floor is Christian's broken voice shouting my name.


	35. Chapter 35

"What the fuck is taking so long?" I growl, pacing the length of the waiting room for what has to be the hundredth time in the last half hour. I hate this; I hate waiting for anything, but I've never felt more impatient in my life. I've been at the hospital for just over an hour after riding with Ana in the ambulance. I tried following her into the emergency room, but her doctors and nurses forced me to remain behind and none of my shouting, begging, threats, or bribes changed a fucking thing. It wasn't long after Taylor managed to urge me into a nearby waiting room that my parents, siblings, and Kate all arrived. I don't remember calling any of them, having been a bit preoccupied on the journey here—Taylor must have called them in an attempt to surround me with people who know how to keep me calm even in the worst of circumstances.

"Christian, when there is news, you will know," Grace assures me gently. "Now please, come sit down."

I shake my head, knowing I couldn't sit still even if I tried. The only comfort I have at the moment is when I turn to pace in the opposite direction and find Mia sitting cross-legged on the floor playing with Caleb. There's not a scratch on him, thank God, and he slept until Taylor took him out of the apartment and down to the SUV to bring him here. I stumble slightly, hopefully not enough for the others to notice, as I once again replay everything from the last couple of hours.

Taylor interrupted a meeting with my development team and the look on his face when he declared that we needed to talk will forever be engrained in my mind. It was a mixture of anger, panic, fear, and urgency that I only picked up on because I know him so well. I didn't hesitate to walk out on my meeting and on the elevator ride down to the main floor, Taylor brought me up to speed on what had happened: a silent alarm had been triggered at the apartment building where Ana had been saying and alerted him of a break-in through a door used by apartment maintenance. Naturally, Taylor placed a call to Sawyer to find out what the fuck was going on, but has been unable to reach him. When that failed, he accessed the surveillance cameras for the building only to discover the ones in place on Ana's floor had been disabled.

We reached the apartment in record time—though it felt like an eternity in my fear—and I didn't bother waiting to confront Sawyer as I rushed into the building and took the stairs two at a time. Taylor and Sawyer were on my heels as I reached the door and tried to open it. It wasn't locked, but something was holding it shut. Taylor instructed me to step back while he and Sawyer expertly busted through it, destroying the chair that had been placed beneath the doorknob to keep it shut. I forced my way past them and laid eyes on a nightmare scenario—Linc standing in the doorway of my son's room, a gun in his hand, and over his shoulder was Anastasia looking pale and shaken, but mercifully unharmed. I had intended to rush at Linc and rip him apart piece by piece for all he's done; all that changed when Linc glanced at me and I saw Ana charge at him. In slow motion, I watched Linc raise his gun and for a terrifying moment, I thought he would shoot her; instead he hit her in the head with the butt of his gun. I watched her crumble to the ground; the second before she disappeared from my view, her eyes met mine and I could see the fear in her expression.

The next several minutes are mostly a blur. I took a few steps towards Linc, but before I could reach him to beat the fucking shit out of him, Taylor reached out and yanked me back. I didn't understand why until he and Sawyer raised their guns, pointing them at Linc who was pointing his own right back. Shots were fired—Linc's missed us; Taylor's and Sawyer's didn't miss and I had the perverse pleasure in watching Linc realize he'd been shot. The second he dropped, I rushed forward, kicking his gun out of my way so I could get to Ana. I fell to my knees at her side, searching for any injuries aside from the most obvious one on her head. Thankfully, she hadn't been hit hard enough that she can't recover—or that's what Taylor tells me—and she was still breathing, albeit it slowly and shallowly. Sawyer apprehended the unconscious Linc and called 911 while Taylor searched the rest of the apartment in case there were other people hiding out.

At first, I'd nearly forgotten Caleb as there at all. Only when Taylor returned as I was thoughtlessly began to pull Ana into my arms and urgently informed me that she could have injuries we don't know about and suggested I check on my son did I move away from Ana, kicking myself for nothing thinking of Caleb before now.

When the emergency responders arrived, Linc was taken into police custody and Sawyer went along with them so we'd have whatever information Linc deemed to reveal. Either that, or he was too afraid to be left in my vicinity once my shock wore off and transformed into anger and the need to find somebody to blame for this presented itself. As it is, I've got a list a mile long of people at fault and I'm at the very top.

I glance out the windows of the waiting room and suddenly feel my blood begin to boil as I find another person to blame, someone I can take my anger out on right here, right now. "That stupid son of a bitch," I growl, moving towards the door. I ignore the voices behind me asking what's wrong, and once they figure it out, they call out to tell me to stop. I yank the door open and grab Joe Battaglia by the throat, slamming him against a nearby wall before he even realizes I'm there.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing here?" I demand, increasing my grip around his throat. All I can see right now is blood red and for the first time in a very long time, I feel as though I could truly hurt another person.

Battaglia grabs at my hands to push me away, struggling to get a breath to speak. Very slightly, I loosen my grip on him and he sucks in a big gulp of oxygen. "I didn't know," he rasps. "I swear to God, I didn't know."

"Didn't know what?" I snap, pushing him harder against the wall.

"That he'd hurt her. He promised not to hurt her!" Battaglia gasps.

I pull one arm away from Battaglia's throat and do something I've wanted to do since I first saw the bastard pawing at Ana in the parking lot of her Savannah apartment: I punch him in the face, pleased when I feel something crack beneath my knuckles.

Several arms grab at me before I can hit him again and I can't fight them as they pull me away. Vaguely I realize the arms to belong to Carrick, Taylor, and Elliot. "Get the fuck off me!" I order them.

"Not a chance," Elliot says dully. "The last thing any of us needs right now is to bail your ass out of jail."

"Mr. Grey, I'll take care of this," Taylor says firmly. I want to argue, to tell him to go fuck himself so I can do this my way. All I can do is watch Taylor pull Battaglia down the hallway.

"Come on, son," Carrick cajoles softly. "There are more important matters right now..."

I disagree, but allow myself to be led back into the waiting room where Mia, Grace, and Kate have been watching with shock on their faces. Ignoring them, I take a seat on the floor where Caleb is playing with somebody's keys. I pull him in my arms and bury my nose in his hair. The change in my mood is instant—rather than murderous rage, holding my son calms me. It must be a genetic thing; the only other person who can do this for me is Anastasia. I can't help thinking that something could have so easily happened to him today—Taylor's or Sawyer's aim could have been off and they could have hit him. Yet another reason for me to despise guns.

"You're safe, baby boy," I whisper, trying to convince myself. "Nothing will ever happen to you or your mother. I failed you again, but I promise I will keep you safe." My voice breaks and I'm suddenly very aware that my family is watching us closely, though none of them makes a move towards me.

_You probably scared the shit out of them and now they're worried you'll attack them next..._

I glance down at my knuckles, finding them covered in blood at the same time as Grace sees it. Shaking her head, she leaves the room for a minute, returning with a first aid kit. She sits down beside me and I automatically adjust Caleb so he's in my left arm so my mother can tend to my injury. "It's fine," I mutter.

"The blood and that man's broken jaw say differently," she replies, deadpan. "Hold still for a change and let me take care of this."

I actually crack a smile. For as long as I can remember, anytime I got hurt as a child, I refused to allow her to patch me up and it frustrated her to no end. She cleans my knuckles with alcohol and wipes them dry, wrapping my hand in a bandage. "Thank you," I whisper, looking back to my son.

She gives me a sympathetic smile, resting a hand on my shoulder. "Ana will be fine," she whispers back.

Nodding, I go back to ignoring everyone else. At least until Kate urgently says my name. I glance towards the door and find a doctor finally making his way towards his. I struggle to my feet, handing Caleb to Elliot when he reaches for him. The doctor enters the room and glances around briefly before his gaze lands on me. "How is she?" I ask desperately. "Anastasia Steele."

"And you are?" he asks, not unkindly.

"Christian Grey. I'm her fiancé," I say quickly.

He smiles, gesturing towards the door. "Let's step outside, shall we?" he suggests.

Glancing at my family, they're all nodding encouragingly, so I follow the doctor. We walk down the hall until we reach a small office. "Anastasia will be just fine," the doctor says without preamble. "She has a cracked skull, but the bleeding was minimal and though her brain is slightly inflamed, the scans we gave her show there will be no permanent damage. For the night, we're keeping her under sedation to give her time to heal, but I assure you, she and the baby will make a full recovery."

"Oh, thank God," I breathe, rubbing my hands down my face. It takes a moment to register everything he just said; when I do, I'm grateful to be sitting. Otherwise, my legs would give out. "Wait. What do you mean the baby? Ana isn't pregnant..." _Is she?_

The doctor's eyes widen at the question and he looks momentarily flustered, glancing down at his chart as though confirming we're talking about the same patient. "I'm sorry, Mr. Grey. I would have thought you'd know... Anastasia is indeed pregnant—she's only a little over a month along, but it was confirmed by a blood test when she was admitted. It's why it's taken this long to get back to you; we wanted to ensure the baby suffered no ill effects."

"And it hasn't?" I check.

"No," the doctor says, smiling. "Aside from Anastasia being unconscious and the fact that she will have the mother of all headaches upon waking, everything is fine."

"Oh," I mouth in shock. "Can I see her?"

"Of course. She's been moved to a private room upon your mother's insistences, and a second bed has been delivered." I frown at his words, making him chuckle. "Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Grey; there are several nurses in this hospital that quite clearly recall the last time Anastasia was admitted here and they don't seem eager to see a repeat performance."

I snort a humorless laugh. "I suppose it will save time and energy later," I say wryly.

Moments later, I'm standing inside Ana's room, watching her sleep. Even medically induced, she looks peaceful with her eyes closed. I hope she's not dreaming about what happened today...

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, sitting down beside her. "All of this... it's my fault. If I hadn't sent you away to Montesano, if I hadn't said those things to you, you never would have been in that apartment today. You'd have been safe." I take her hand, wincing at the coldness of her skin, and press her knuckles against my lips. "I was so fucking scared today. Anything could have happened in the time between Taylor finding out there was a break-in to when I finally got to you. It could have been too late. And let me tell you, Anastasia, I would not have hesitated to kill that bastard. Even now, I'm considering it, particularly after finding out—" I stop suddenly, unable to finish the sentence as I glance down to Ana's deceptively flat belly. I frown in thought. "A little over a month... That would put us at the Fairmont on my birthday." I grin at the memory, then sigh when I recall our argument the next morning regarding the use of birth control—or rather, the _lack_ of use. "I know you weren't ready for this, and honestly, I'm probably not either with all the shit going on around us, but please don't ever doubt just how much I want to see our family grow. I hope you'll be happy about it—I am." I sigh. "Well, I will be once you wake up and I can properly enjoy the experience without a dark cloud hanging over us."

Despite my anger and frustration, I let myself temporarily put all that out of my mind so I can focus on the only bit of good news I've gotten tonight—aside from being told Ana will be okay, of course. I really am looking forward to going through this pregnancy with her. I want to see every change her body goes through, every mood swing, every ridiculous midnight craving. I want to hold her hand throughout every doctor's appointment while we see our child through a sonogram. I want to be there for her when she goes into labor, encourage her, let her squeeze my fingers so hard they might break. I want to hold my newborn child in my arms and to have him look up at me with trusting, loving eyes, and see how amazing a big brother Caleb will make. I wasn't given the option of doing any of that during her pregnancy, but this is our chance to make it up to each other. I can show her I'm worthy of this opportunity to be with my family, not that I think even for a second she believes otherwise. Maybe I need to prove it to myself.

"Sir?"

I look away from Ana, automatically reaching up to wipe away the traces of dampness on my cheeks. Taylor is looking away from me and I get the impression I wasn't as successful as I'd hoped. "What is it?" I ask gruffly.

"Battaglia was incredibly helpful. I thought you'd want an update, but I can come back..."

"No," I whisper, placing Ana's hand beside her on the bed. I stand, leaning over her to press my lips to hers. Her doctor said she'd be unconscious until morning and even if they're wrong, I won't be gone too long. I gesture for Taylor to lead the way and he does, leading me to a private room so we can talk. "Well?"

Taylor searches my expression for a moment as though he's wondering whether I can handle whatever he has to tell me. "For one, we know how Lincoln accessed the apartment building. He was posing as a member of the maintenance team and was coming and going through that back door. We checked the basement every time we did a sweep, but he always seemed to know before we did one and took off before we showed up—I was able to find video of him coming and going over the last three days."

"Three days?" I ask incredulously. "That fucking prick was sneaking in for three fucking days and none of you with all your military training picked up on it? And where the fuck was Sawyer while all this was going on?"

"Exactly where he was supposed to be," Taylor says wearily. "He should have received the same security breach alert I did, but it seems he hasn't been getting his phone calls."

"Yeah?" I ask coolly. "What about watching the fucking building for suspicious activity? What about fucking perimeter checks? This shouldn't have been possible, Taylor! Luke Sawyer's contract is terminated; I don't ever want to see him again. Is that fucking clear?"

Taylor's jaw ticks in annoyance. "Yes, sir," he says quietly, obviously wanting to argue.

"What else did you find out?"

"Battaglia was unaware of the lengths Lincoln was determined to go to for his endgame. He admits to speaking with Lincoln when his baseball team was in town—they discussed Miss Steele and how he believed..." Taylor shifts uncomfortably on his feet. I raise an eyebrow at him. "Well, he believed you took away his chances to be with Miss Steele."

"Did he now..." I mutter menacingly. "Not exactly news. What else?"

"During that conversation, it seems Lincoln dropped a few hints about your... er... lifestyle choices, and Battaglia came to his own conclusions about what it meant for Miss Steele. Battaglia is also familiar with Mrs. Lincoln; according to him she tried to seduce him when he was a teenager." Taylor clears his throat, looking away from me.

My other eyebrow rises as I run this through my mind. Battaglia is the same age as me, which means Elena was probably going after him while she and I... Well, this just proves I was nothing more than an abused plaything in her eyes. For about a second, I'm envious that Battaglia was able to rebuff her advances while I wasn't. I suppose the difference was that he grew up in a perfectly normal, loving family and he didn't have my past.

"Aside from that, Battaglia is willing to testify against Lincoln regarding the murder of Jack Hyde," Taylor goes on. "He says he has proof of Lincoln bribing a couple guards at the jail Hyde was being held."

"What proof?" I ask.

"Recorded phone calls, photographic evidence. He'll hand it over in the morning to the police."

I nod. "Is there anything else?"

"Not at the moment."

"I need to get back."

"Of course, sir. Is there anything I can bring you?"

"Not at the moment," I answer, opening the door. "I'll contact you if anything changes.'

Rather than rejoining Ana immediately, I make a detour to the waiting room to give my family an update on her condition. It's getting late and people are beginning to look exhausted. I agree to let my parents take Caleb home for the night and promise to call everybody if something happens in the night. Kissing my son good night, I return to Ana's side.

"This should all be over soon, baby," I whisper to her as I slide onto the hospital bed right beside her and reaching over to take her hand. "Then we can start on our happy ending."


	36. Chapter 36

I open my eyes reluctantly, squinting against the dim light in the room. I take a breath to tell Christian to turn off the lights and sleep instead of work for a change, but I can't seem to get my voice box to cooperate. A quiet voice across the room gets my attention and as I begin to realize I'm in the hospital rather than at home, I locate Christian sitting in a chair near a window, his back facing me as he talks on the phone. My head is pounding; I lift a heavy hand to my head and find it wrapped in a bandage of some sort. Gasping, my memory returns; better than that, it draws Christian's attention to me. His eyes widen and he jumps to his feet, fumbling to end his phone call as he crosses over to reach me.

"Ana," he breathes, looking relieved and worried at the same time. "Thank God you're awake."

I reach out for his hand, interlocking our fingers together. "Linc..." I whisper hoarsely. I remember standing in Caleb's room and Linc blocking my exit. I remember all the things he said to me. I remember the need to protect my son. I suck in a sharp breath, trying to sit up in bed. "Caleb!"

Christian gently pushes me back down onto my pillows, shushing me as he does so. "He's fine, baby," he says soothingly. "Perfectly fine. Not a single hair on his head is out of place."

Relieved, I manage a nod, exhausted from my panic attack. "Where is he?"

"With my parents," Christian answers, sitting beside me on the bed and draping an arm over my belly. "He's safe."

"What happened?" I ask. "After Linc hit me..."

Anger flashes in his eyes at the reminder, but I'm too tired to analyze it. "You don't need to worry about that," he says in a gentle tone that still brooks no argument. "He's in police custody and he's not getting out anytime soon." _Or at all if I have my way._

"Christian, he has videos of you," I whisper urgently, feeling nauseous all over again at the thought. "Of you and..." I can't even say her name and it seems I don't have to; Christian is nodding.

"I know," he replies. "Taylor had a team search his car and the hotel where he's been holed up, and found all kinds of shit he shouldn't have. I'm taking care of it." He pauses. "What else did he say to you?"

I shrug. "He was using Caleb and me to get to you," I reply. "He wanted to make you pay for what happened with Elena."

Christian sighs heavily, nodding. "I assumed as much," he says tiredly.

"Does it even matter to him that you were just a kid when that started?" I ask tentatively.

"I seriously doubt it. The only thing he was ever concerned with was the fact that someone was fucking his wife. It's not even as though he loved her; she was a trophy wife—a status symbol to get him into the affluent society circles. As far as he was concerned, I was old enough to know better and he only found out towards the end of our..." His eyes dart away, searching for a word. "Arrangement. I've told you enough that at the time, I didn't see anything wrong with my relationship with Elena; I never questioned it until you came into my life." He presses my fingers to his lips. "Anyway, I've been waiting a long time for him to find some form of revenge against me; he's learned enough about me over the years to realize there are only two people I would go to the end of the world for. I tried, Ana. I tried to keep you safe—over and over. And I've failed every time. I'm so sorry."

"Don't do that," I murmur through my exhaustion. "I don't blame you." It seems he's blaming himself enough for both of us. I yawn and he cracks a smile. "Stay with me?"

He closes his eyes, relief washing over his face. "Always, Anastasia," he murmurs, standing and walking around to the bed that's pushed up against mine. He slides in behind me, pulling me against his chest and resting his hand on my belly. "You're tired now. But we need to talk in the morning."

There is something in his voice that should set off alarms in my mind, but I'm too tired to question it right now. All that matters is that my family and I are safe, that I'm in Christian's arms, and I'll never take anything in my life for granted again.

* * *

Taylor has delivered breakfast and while Ana still sleeps, I arrange our meals on a rolling tray and contemplate my unique situation. How often is it that a man is the one to tell the love of his life that she's pregnant? I almost want to hold onto the news a while longer, allow it to soak in some more. Of course I'm well aware that if I withhold such information from her, she'll probably follow through with one or two of Kate's more creative threats involving my balls. And it's not like I can keep it secret for much longer... Vaguely, I wonder how long it takes for morning sickness to kick in; that will be a dead giveaway for her.

"I smell bacon."

Grinning, I turn towards Ana as her eyes open. "Yes, you do," I confirm. "Along with pancakes and eggs—your favorite, as I recall, my dear."

She hums her appreciation. "Did you sleep last night?" she asks quietly as I push her tray over her bed, hitting the button to lift the top of half of the bed so she's sitting up.

I turn away, avoiding the question and wondering what gave it away. Well, I suppose it was fairly evident by the bags under my eyes and the gray tinge in my skin—a result of worry and exhaustion. Rather than resting, I spent most of the night just watching her sleep and convincing myself that she is here with me, alive and well, and the worst that could have happened inside that apartment didn't come to pass. Besides, every time I closed my eyes, I imagined every terrible scenario, including finding Ana's cold body in a pool of blood after being shot.

"Christian?"

Startled, I spin around, staring wide-eyed at Ana. "Sorry," I mumble, moving my own tray so I can sit beside her in bed and eat. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You're shaking."

Sighing, I stab a piece of pancake and try to push aside the _could have happens._ "I'm sure, I promise," I whisper, trying to give her a reassuring smile. "You just gave me a hell of a scare last night and I suppose I'm still a little shaken."

Her eyes close momentarily and I see an apologetic expression flit across her features, though I can't imagine what she has to be sorry for. There wasn't anything she could have done to prevent what happened. No, that's all on me... "I was afraid," she admits in a tiny voice. I ignore my breakfast to listen to her. "I didn't know what he was going to do, but he was angry enough that I don't think he would have hesitated to hurt us just get back at you."

"I know he wouldn't have hesitated," I say quietly. "We interrupted whatever his plans were; thankfully, he underestimated the lengths I would go to in order to keep you safe. Even though he managed to slip past most of our defenses, there were still a few he couldn't possibly know about."

"What about Sawyer?" she asks suddenly, looking wary when my expression hardens.

"Sawyer fucked up," I say darkly. "I'm still working out the details, but the bottom line is that he's proved untrustworthy. We won't be seeing him again."

For a moment, I think Ana might argue, perhaps defend Sawyer, but she only shakes her head and returns to her pancakes. Thankfully, she drops the subject and I feel the tension beginning to break; I don't want our next conversational topic to be discussed with _that_ still at the forefront of our minds.

As she finishes her last bite of pancake, I turn towards her, and take a few deep breaths. She raises a questioning eyebrow at me. "There's something we need to discuss," I say quietly. "It's nothing to do with Linc or any of them, and I think it's outstanding news, but I'm not certain how you'll feel about it."

She looks suddenly nervous. "Okay," she mouths.

I smile, pulling her against me, needing her in my arms when I say my next words. "We've put each other through a lot since we met last year," I begin, "and with every corner that we turn, we seem to find new ways to simultaneously hurt and make each other insanely happy."

Her lips twitch. "_Insanely_ happy?" she teases.

I narrow my eyes playfully at her. "Well, you do tend to make me insane at times and I'm fairly certain I have the same effect on you." She bites her lip against a laugh and I automatically reach up to pull it free. "Anyway, I need you to know that I'm yours just as much as you are mine, and nothing can or will ever change that. I hurt you before you left to stay with Ray in Montesano; even though you knew everything I said was a lie, I know my words are still affecting you. I'm sorry for all of that, Anastasia. For every word I said to you, I am sorry."

"I know," she says quietly, reaching for my hand. "Christian, I see it every time you look at me. I don't need any more apologies."

"Maybe not, but it's important for you to hear the words from my mouth before I tell you this..."

"Why?" she asks uneasily. "What do you have to tell me that has to be qualified with this sort of speech?"

Taking a deep breath, I rest my hand on her belly, though she doesn't seem to understand the significance. If I was smart and thought things through a little more, I would have realized I wouldn't be allowed to get through this conversation without an interruption. I very nearly yell at the nurse who enters the room; instead, I settle for a growl only Ana can hear. She actually giggles at me. Once Ana's vitals are taken and the nurse is satisfied, she ignores my glare and leaves the room. Ana turns to me expectantly, and again, I try to speak, but my mother is the next surprise arrival. I'm tempted to fit the door with a deadbolt lock just so we can have this conversation.

"How are you feeling, dear?" Grace asks, crossing the room and leaning in to give Ana a gentle hug.

"I'm okay," Ana assures her. "I have a headache, but I suppose that's to be expected. Though I am getting tired of hospitals..."

Grace chuckles, her eyes sparkling as her gaze darts briefly to mine. My heart stops briefly at the realization that my mother knows about the pregnancy. I shouldn't be surprised; of course Grace would have a look at Ana's charts... And before I can think of a way to communicate that I haven't yet been able to bring Ana up to speed, Grace speaks. "Well, you've got time to adjust," she says kindly, patting Ana's hand.

Ana looks confused. "Do I?" she asks cluelessly.

"Of course," Grace goes on good-naturedly while my tongue remains tied. "Though hopefully the next time you're here, it will be planned..."

"Um, maybe it's the head injury," Ana says slowly, looking between my slightly panicked expression to Grace's joyous one, "but I'm not really following."

Grace's hand flies to her mouth in realization and she looks at me with apology. I give her a tight smile. "I haven't been able to get into it yet," I say to my mother. "I was just about to tell her, actually..."

"Tell me what?" Ana demands.

"Well, I'll give the two of you some privacy," Grace says, looking as though she wishes she could turn back time. Don't we all...

Grace leaves the room before I can form a response and I feel Ana's demanding gaze on me. "Christian," she says, her tone sounding vaguely threatening. "What's going on?"

Sighing, I turn to her again. "I'm not entirely certain how to go about this," I say honestly, "but as the result will be the same no matter how I phrase it, so I'm just going to say it." I take her face in my hands, allowing some of my happiness shine through. "Ana, you're pregnant," I whisper.

She gasps in shock. "What?" she breathes.

I nod. "When you were admitted last night, the hospital staff ran some tests, including a blood test—standard operation when a patient arrives—and it revealed you're just over a month pregnant. Maybe as much as six weeks; they'll need to do a sonogram to confirm it."

"Pregnant," she repeats in a whisper. "Oh."

I swallow hard, unable to figure out what that tiny little word so full of meaning might be about. "Is that a good 'oh' or a bad 'oh'?" I ask tentatively.

"Um, I don't know," she responds, rolling our conversation around in her mind. Her brow furrows and I remain silent and unmoving while she thinks. "Good, I think."

I can feel my lips stretch into a huge smile. "Yeah?" I whisper hopefully. She lifts her gaze to meet my eyes and I can see so many emotions in them—most importantly, love and happiness. She nods. Yanking her into my arms, still aware of the IV she's hooked up to, I bury my face in her neck. "Good," I repeat. "So am I."

She pulls away just enough to kiss me and I groan, pushing her to lie back down so we can do this properly. For a minute, I forget where we are, why we're here, and just enjoy the feeling of knowing she wants this as much as I do. "Not exactly how we planned things," she mutters when we part. "But for us, it seems fitting..."

I huff a laugh, tracing her jawline with a finger. "Indeed it does," I agree wryly. I just look at her speculatively for a moment. "Does it bother you?"

Her brow furrows. "Does what bother me?"

"The fact that everything we do seems completely out of order. We were hardly together before we broke up the first time and you found out about Caleb. Neither of us really hesitated with the decision to live together. We were engaged, broken up, together again, and how you're pregnant, all without a wedding. Some people would baulk at ignoring tradition."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Christian, if I was going to baulk about ignoring tradition when it comes to you, we wouldn't have gotten past the first night you brought me to Escala," she says, deadpan.

I laugh. "Yes, you're probably right," I agree. "This is our second chance, Anastasia. I have no intention of letting it slip by again. Before our next child is born, I want to marry you. Maybe we've flouted tradition in the past, but it's time to change that. I want us to have it all, no more uncertainty, no more apologies—just like we talked about the other night."

She nods. "I want that, too," she whispers, yawning again. Apparently the news that she's pregnant isn't enough to banish the effect of the pain medication for her head.

I smile indulgently. "Get some sleep, baby," I whisper. "I'll be here when you wake."

* * *

Once Anastasia is definitely asleep, I carefully slip out of bed, pulling her blankets to her chin and kissing her forehead. I just watch her in fascination for a few minutes, amazed at the turn our lives has taken in the last several hours. After so long of believing I'd never have her in my life again, Ana is here with me, once again carrying my child, though this time I knew about it before she did. I wasn't sure what reaction to expect when I told her, but she seemed as pleased as she could, all things considered. The pain medication has undoubtedly made her mind hazy and once it clears, I'll know for certain.

In the meantime, however, I have other business to attend to, and as much as I don't want to leave Ana, I don't have much choice at the moment. I step out of the room and find my mother standing across the hall, looking apologetic again.

"Christian, I'm sorry," she says. "I thought she knew."

"It's okay," I assure her, accepting her hug. "She knows now."

Grace nods uncertainly. "How'd she take it?" she asks.

"Better than expected," I admit. "I mean, we've briefly discussed having another child since getting back together, but we had different opinions on the matter. After all, she's only just had Caleb and I think going through the pregnancy alone is still a sore point for her."

"She won't be alone this time," Grace says firmly, glaring slightly at me.

I crack a smile. "No, she won't be," I say softly. "I wouldn't have been ready to be a father last year, but now that I have Caleb..." I roll my eyes at myself. "Well, there are days that I'm still not ready, but it doesn't matter. He's my son and I love him, and I'll love this baby just as much."

Grace looks as though she might cry. "I know you will," she whispers.

I glance around us, hoping to find something to distract me. I've never been particularly skilled in knowing what to do when women cry—especially the women closest to me—and this is no different. "Speaking of Caleb, where is he?"

Smirking, Grace glances over her shoulder, fully aware of what I'm doing. I follow her gaze to the nurses' station we're standing beside and find several people cooing over my son's car seat. As I get closer to him, I can see the grin on his face that tells me he is very much enjoying the female attention. If he turns out anything like me, that will fade when he gets older. There are only so many times you can watch woman after woman trip over themselves to get to you because of an attractive face or wealth. Ana is the only woman whose attention I've not rebuffed, but then again, while she clearly likes what she sees when she looks at me, I know she's more interested in what's inside me rather than my appearance or money.

Caleb squeals when he spots me and the nurses crowding around him do their own appreciation of my looks. Ignoring them, I turn Caleb towards me, lifting him from his seat, and sit down in a chair beside a desk. "Well, hello, baby boy," I whisper, returning his toothy grin. My eyebrows rise slightly when I spot an actual tooth beginning to push through his top gum. Two months ago, he could barely hold his head up straight; now he's gaining control of his muscles, he looks more like Ana and me every day, and I doubt it will be much longer before he begins to crawl. I suddenly understand the phrase _children grow up too fast_.

"How's he been?" I ask Grace, still looking at Caleb.

"A perfect little angel," she answers predictably. "Your sister would disagree, I think; Ethan came for dinner last night and when he was holding Caleb, he ended up covered in spit-up."

I laugh at the visual and I could swear Caleb winks at me, already accomplished at being overprotective of the people he loves. "Good boy, Caleb," I exclaim, noting my mother shaking her head at us.

"Mr. Grey."

I turn and find Taylor standing behind me. I sigh, not wanting to let go of my son just yet; at the same time, I'm not sure I should expose him to whatever reaction I may have to Taylor's information update. I suppose that means I'll just have to control my emotions. I'm capable of that, right?

"We'll be back, Mom," I say, nodding for Taylor to lead the way down the hall. "What now?"

"Mr. Lincoln has implicated his ex-wife as an accomplice in many of the charges he's facing."

I shake my head, bouncing Caleb in my arms. I was right; he has a calming effect on me. Normally I'd probably be shouting or wanting to punch something. "Which ones?"

"The car accident, for one," Taylor says grimly. "He claims that Mrs. Lincoln was the one who pulled Jack Hyde from the wreckage. She drove him to a Tacoma hospital in an attempt to keep the local PD from picking up on him so soon. The plan was to make him the fall guy, but once Hyde started to recover, he started to talk, and Lincoln needed to shut him up. Mrs. Lincoln is on surveillance delivering what seems to be a suitcase of cash to the jail the day before Hyde was murdered. He also says she stole your son's toy from your parents' house and gave it to him to mail to you. It was a scare tactic, but of course you worked that out already, I'm sure." I nod, still focusing on Caleb. All Taylor is doing at this point is confirming theories I've had for weeks. "Battaglia and Rodriguez were recruited in an attempt to make inside contact with Miss Steele. It seemed he assumed one or both of them could lure her away from you, but she's proven much stronger than anybody gave her credit for."

By anybody, he's including us. And he's right. All along we thought we needed to protect Ana from all of this, and all along she's handled it better than I have.

"Also, you'll be relieved to know that the evidence Mr. Lincoln had against you has been destroyed along with any possible copies."

I raise an eyebrow. "Really? How?"

"Sawyer took care of it," Taylor answers mildly. "It seemed he took Lincoln's break-in and threatening of Miss Steele and Caleb as a personal attack—he's become quite fond of them since he's been in your employ. He took care of anything that might have come back to harm either of them."

I get the impression Taylor is still fighting for Sawyer's job. It's a thought to revisit later, I suppose...

"Has Linc named anybody we don't yet know about?"

"Not as of yet, but we're not ruling it out."

Running my free hand through my hair while Caleb plays with my loose tie, I nod. "Keep me posted. I'm not sure how long they're planning to keep Anastasia here, but when she's released, I still intend to take her to the new house. I want that place more secure than the fucking Pentagon; this cannot happen again."

Taylor nods his understanding and for the first time, I realize he's also taking the break-in personally. In the time he's been in my employ, we've never had a breach of security this severe and that the fact that the people who were most effected were Ana and Caleb pisses him off nearly as much as it does me. With those parting words, I return to Ana, knowing she's probably eager to see her son. When I arrive, I find Kate sitting beside her bed and they're talking in low voices; Ana is frowning deeply while Kate is explaining something to her. Both women look at me simultaneously and I think the only thing keeping me from being burned alive by the heat in their eyes is having Caleb in my arms. Immediately, Ana's expression changes as she beam at the sight of her son and eagerly holds her arms out for me to place him in there. I don't hesitate, stepping back just enough to see her entire body relax in relief.

Ana holds Caleb close and I watch a myriad of emotions run across her face—relief, love, fear. She's replaying what happened yesterday evening and everything that could have gone wrong. I sit on the edge of the bed and carefully pull them both into my arms in an attempt to comfort and reassure her that they are safe now. Vaguely, I hear Kate make some excuse and leave the room.

The next few minutes are blissful as I hold my family. At this very moment, I couldn't be happier if I tried. I'll never let them go again, no matter the combination of my and Ana's stubbornness and refusal to give in to anything once we have our minds set on something. And soon it won't just be the three of us anymore; there will be one more person for me to protect and cherish.

"What are you thinking about?" Ana asks me softly.

I smile, pressing my lips against her hair. "How lucky I am," I whisper honestly. "How much it means that you're in my arms again and that you've given me something I never thought I wanted, let alone ever having it. I know I've probably said it a dozen times now, but you're my world." I rest one hand on her belly. "All three of you."

She smiles, her eyes drifting down to my left hand. Somehow I've forgotten that it's been wrapped in a bandage after punching Joe Battaglia. "Were you going to tell me about this?" she asks mildly. "Or even how you broke Joe's jaw?"

I swallow a smirk at the memory when I see her raised eyebrow. "Eventually, yes," I answer. "But it didn't seem nearly as important to discuss as _other things_ did." I make a pointed glance at her flat belly.

"Fair point, well made, Mr. Grey," she says, making me smirk.

"Are you angry?"

She sighs. "Under normal circumstances, I would be, probably, but all things considered..." She pauses for a moment, thinking. "No. I'd have done the same thing."

My eyebrows shoot up. "Really?"

Nodding, she reaches for my hand and I happily let her take it. "I told you once before that you're not the only person who is possessive and overprotective in this relationship. I told you that if your mother hadn't slapped Mrs. Robinson, I would have done it myself—I still regret not doing it. But yes, if someone who you had befriended had betrayed and hurt you, even if they didn't really know they were doing it, I would have happily broken the jaw or any other bone of that person's body, and I wouldn't regret it for even a second."

Staring at her, I begin to realize what she's hinted at in the past about being overwhelmed by how I feel about her. I know Ana loves me. She tried to convince me of it less than an hour or so after I beat her with a belt in my playroom. If that didn't make her stop, I don't think anything will. Unable to speak, I lean in and kiss her slowly, deeply, pouring my entire sense of self into it. When I manage to pull myself away from her, she has a dazed look in her eyes and I don't think it has a single thing to do with the pain medication. I glance down and find Caleb watching us with interest, and for once, not causing a fuss to interrupt us. "I'd do it all again," I say quietly, looking back at Ana, "every single second, every word, every action, as long as it means I get to keep you two in my life."

She swallows hard, the meaning of my words, understanding that I'm including her leaving me last year in that statement. "I feel the same," she admits, then smiles wryly. "Though I think I'd forgo some of the drama..."

I smirk, leaning in to kiss her again. "Me too, baby. Hopefully this will be the end of it."

And as somebody else knocks on her hospital room door, I'm counting the seconds before she's out of this place and we can have some peace and quiet.


	37. Chapter 37

"Mr. Grey, a word, please?"

I glance up at Christian in time to see his eyes close in annoyance at Taylor's interruption. For the last couple hours, we've been left to ourselves, talking, playing with Caleb, or just being together. In that time, I think we both managed to temporarily forget everything around us, though I ought to know by now peace is fleeting around here.

Sighing, Christian stands from the edge of the bed and eases Caleb back into my arms. "I won't be long," he murmurs, kissing me briefly.

I nod, trying to smile and tell him it's fine, even though the look on Taylor's face suggests something else entirely. Luckily, Kate arrives just as the men leave to provide a distraction. Or she does until I hear a bang from outside my room followed by a muffled curse that I'm absolutely positive belongs to Christian.

"That sounds pleasant," Kate murmurs, looking between me and the door.

I sigh. When the door opens a few minutes later, Christian stalks in, fingers buried in his messy hair—I think vaguely that he needs a haircut—and looks at me grimly.

"Kate, can you excuse us, please?" he asks, his tone surprisingly pleasant despite the anger in his eyes.

Kate glances at me questioningly, I nod, and she stands with a sigh to leave the room. Once she's gone, Christian begins to pace. "What's wrong?" I ask. I'm not even sure he hears me; he didn't react even slightly. "Christian?"

Finally, he stops at the foot of my bed, wrapping his long fingers around the end railing as he tries to calm himself. "I have to leave," he says in a low tone. "I'm not sure how long I'll be gone."

My eyebrows rise. "Leave? For where?"

He sighs, screwing his eyes shut as though he'd hoped I wouldn't ask. "It's nothing for you to worry about," he says dismissively. The look in his eyes says something completely different.

"Well, I am," I reply boldly. "Of course I'm worried, Christian. You want us to trust each other—we can't do that only when things are going smoothly and choose to keep things to ourselves when they aren't. Don't you think I've earned the right to know what's going on?"

He flinches. I've hit a nerve and I can almost see him replaying what happened with Linc in the apartment. "Yes, you have," he whispers, moving to sit beside me and placing an arm across my waist. "We found Elena. Or rather we have a much better idea of where she is."

"Oh?" I ask, trying to keep my tone even. "Where's that?"

The look of reluctance in his eyes almost makes me want to retract the question. "I told you about Leila," he says quietly, resignedly. "I've been keeping tabs on her since she was taken to the hospital in Connecticut—or rather, Dr. Flynn makes regular inquires into her progress. This morning, he received a call directly from her with a message for me that Elena has been attempting to make contact with her. Leila has been trying to ignore the attempts; since beginning treatment, she's become more able to spot toxic relationships and Elena gives off every negative feeling she's been trying to avoid. Elena is getting more insistent, so Leila called Flynn, hoping there is something I can do to get Elena to back off."

It takes me a couple minutes to understand exactly what it is he's telling me, but the moment I do, I wish I hadn't. "So you're going out there with not one but two of your exes, both of whom have exhibited some very outward signs of psychosis to... what, exactly? Have some sort of intervention?"

He looks at me apologetically. "Leila wants to talk to me personally," he says slowly. "It's the last thing I want to do; Flynn, her doctors, and even Taylor have been trying to get information from her, but she is refusing to give anything up. I think she's scared and I think I'm the only one she'll talk to. And if Elena is there, it can't be just for a wellness check."

"Does Elena know Leila?" I ask quietly.

His gaze is wary. "Yes," he mouths.

"Did all your submissives know her?"

"Yes."

I sigh. This situation is getting more ridiculous by the minute. "If Elena is involved in all this, why would she bring Leila into it?"

He hesitates. "I don't know," he answers, though I don't believe him. The longer I stare at him expectantly, the more defeated he looks. "The theory I have is that since involving Joe and José in this to lure you away from me didn't pan out the way Linc had hoped, they think adding Leila to the mix might fix that."

"How so?" I ask, though I think I already know the answer.

"Perhaps they want you to see the extent of my depravity," he suggests, not meeting my eyes. "Of all the submissives I've had, Leila tended to bring out the worst in me. The others had limits of how far they were willing to go; she didn't. I'll spare you the details, but in the time we were together, I was able to lose myself with her in a way I haven't been able to with almost anyone. I think there is a possibility that when Leila was trying to get my attention last year, she may have gone to Elena—or Elena may have gone to her. I don't know. I have a feeling Leila may have confided in Elena and now Elena may be trying to use that against her and me."

"Can I talk you into not going?" I ask.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You could," he says wearily, "but at this point, I'd rather you didn't. Linc is in jail. Jack Hyde is dead. Battaglia and the photographer aren't direct threats—at least not according to Taylor. Elena is currently the only loose thread in this mess. If we get her, we can move on."

I don't like it; by the look in his eyes, neither does he. But I can understand his reasoning. I can't deny the insecurity I feel knowing he's going to be on the other side of the country with those women, both of whom were once exactly what he wanted and needed in life.

_Only sexually_, my mind reminds me. _Neither of them, nor the other former submissives, got all of him the way you do. The ones who wanted more were sent packing. You weren't. He fought for you. He's still fighting. For your peace of mind and your future together. _

"How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know," he whispers sadly. "Hopefully not long—a day or two. I hate this, Ana. Every time things start to look up for us, we're yanked apart again."

Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly, trying not to think of how much longer this scenario will last. "You're not going alone, are you?" I ask.

He smiles. "No. Taylor will stay here with you while I'm gone, but I'll take a couple other security guys with me, just in case."

I frown. "What about Sawyer?" I have a vague recollection of him telling me Sawyer had basically been fired.

Christian scowls. "Ana, don't," he warns.

"It wasn't his fault, you know," I say quietly. "You said yourself even Taylor didn't realize there could have been way into the building."

He glares. "A lot of people are to blame for that," he says darkly. "And yes, Sawyer is on that list."

"Who else is on it?" I ask without thinking. "Am I?"

His features harden and I know he is right on the verge of losing his temper with me completely. "Stop," he growls.

"No. Tell me." I don't know why it's so important for me to hear it out loud, but it is. Both he and I know without doubt that I'm on that list.

Jumping to his feet, Christian paces halfway across the room until I think he'll just leave the room altogether without saying another word, but he suddenly spins around to face me again. "Yes," he snaps. "You are on that fucking list. Why? Because if you hadn't been so fucking stubborn and had just come back to Escala with me, you would not have been accessible to Linc or anybody else. But as always, it has to be your way. How do I know that? Because I'm exactly the same way. I sent you away for your protection and it seems I was right to do so, only my timing was a bit off. And for the record, I'm on the list, too. I was too fucking afraid that if I tried to force you into coming back to Escala with me, you would really run and I'd never get you back. Everything I or my team has done so far has failed to keep you and Caleb safe. This is all I have left that I have even a hint of semblance of control over."

I bite my tongue during his rant that he hasn't fired Taylor over what happened, so why does Sawyer get the brunt of it all? "I'm sorry," I whisper. "Christian, I don't blame you. You're right; my stubbornness caused everything."

He sighs, returning to me and sitting down at my side. "No, it didn't," he concedes. "If I'd handled sending you away differently, perhaps you would have come home. Let's leave it at we all fucked up for now and we'll sort it later. Okay?" I don't know how to respond, so I stare down at my knotted fingers. He leans in, taking my chin in hand to turn me towards him. "Ana, I don't want to leave here with us fighting. We've done that one too many times and it kills me every time. Please, baby."

All my tension, anger, and fear fade away at his words. He's right; more often than not, right before one of us leaves for whatever reason, it's following some sort of fight. "I don't want to fight," I assure him. "I just want this to be over."

He smiles sadly. "I know, baby. So do I. And it will be; I don't know exactly when, but it will be. Please trust me."

"I do," I whisper honestly. "I don't want you to go, but I know why you have to. Just come home safely." My eyes narrow at him as I attempt to lighten the mood. "And that's not a request, Mr. Grey."

He cracks a genuine smile and chuckles. "Yes, Miss Steele," he murmurs, leaning in again. "Understood."

We spend a few more minutes, each of us lost in our thoughts, before he sighs and stands. "I should go," he said resignedly. "I'll call you the moment I get there and I'll keep you updated, and I'll come home as quickly as possible."

I nod, desperately wishing he'll suddenly decide this isn't necessary after all. "I love you," I whisper after he gives me a kiss to tide us over until his return. "Be careful. Try to behave."

"I could say the same to you," he responds with a raised eyebrow. "If for some reason I don't get back before you're released from this place, I'd like you to stay with Kate and Elliot, or even with my parents. I don't want you to be alone. Wherever you choose to go, Taylor will arrange it; just tell him. And when I am back, we _will_ be going to the new house."

"I'd like that," I mouth. He gives me his shy smile. "And I will tell Taylor where I choose to go."

Winking, he kisses me again, then walks around my bed to where Caleb is sleeping in his portable crib to press a kiss to his sleeping forehead. "I love you, too, Anastasia. Don't ever doubt that."

With one last smile, he leaves the room and I immediately feel bereft. He's been gone for about three seconds and I miss him already. Grinning stupidly, I inwardly roll my eyes at myself. God, I've got it bad for this guy...

* * *

This is a bad idea. I knew it the moment I left the hospital and got in the car with Ryan to take me to the airport. Taylor wasn't pleased when I told him my plan—he thinks this could be some sort of trap, a way to lure me away from Anastasia and Caleb to hurt either me or them. My gut says otherwise and I tend to trust it in most situations, but that doesn't mean I've let my guard down. I sent Leila a text message just before my plane took off informing her that I am on my way and that I will meet her at a restaurant shortly after I land. I've got no desire to meet with her in private and I don't want to give Ana any reason to be uneasy about this than she already is. Besides, in the public, we're on neutral ground. She'll feel safer and might be more willing to open up. And if Elena really is hanging around, my presence might coax her out into the open where the police I've tipped off and have on standby can apprehend and send her back to Seattle.

As soon as I land, I make good on my promise to contact Ana and assure her I'm fine. I smile softly at the sound of her voice; I must have interrupted her nap. I'd have thought she'd just let the phone ring if she was sleeping, but I love that she's so expectantly awaiting my call and to hear my voice.

"I've arranged for a table towards the back of the restaurant," I say to Ryan and Reynolds when we arrive. "Privacy is important if this is going to be successful, but I want the two of you nearby just in case. Theoretically, Leila isn't the threat she was last year, but we're taking no chances."

Both men nod and follow me inside. I scan the place for Leila, but she hasn't arrived yet. Good. It will give my security the opportunity to get the restaurant secure. The manager spots us and makes a beeline; I inform him that my men will require access to every corner of his building and he quickly agrees. I'm sure the cash I gave him for his cooperation was a major factor in that agreement. The moment I'm seated in a chair with my back to the wall so I can see everything around me, the manager delivers a bottle of wine and leaves two menus. I don't have any intention of actually eating right now, but I think this is another way to reassure Leila.

I glance at my watch when she enters—she's right on time. I'm sure she clearly recalls my reaction to her lateness when she was my submissive; there were times I believed she did it on purpose just so I'd punish her. Her eyes scan the area, widening when she finds me. I watch warily as her eyes automatically dart to her feet as she walks towards me. I haven't seen her since last year when I loaded her into an ambulance to be taken to the hospital for a mental evaluation and I'm relieved to see her appearance has very much improved in that time. She's regained the weight she lost. She's clean and well groomed, and her clothes fit her. The drawn look of her face is gone as is the paleness of her skin and the deadened look in her eyes.

"Hello, Leila," I mutter, my manners forcing me to pull out a chair for her. I seat myself again, finding her staring at the table. "Thank you for meeting me."

"Yes, Mr. Grey," she says quietly.

It occurs to me suddenly that while I once loved it when women submitted to me without argument, that isn't the case anymore. I've grown accustomed to having Ana give me a bit of her smart mouth or challenging me that I don't know how I possibly did anything else before. "Leila, I am not your Dominant anymore," I say very quietly to avoid being overheard. "I'm here for information and it will be difficult to get it if you're hesitant."

She blanches, but looks up at me. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry," she breathes.

I roll my eyes. "Tell me about Mrs. Lincoln. When did she first approach you?" I pour each of us a glass of wine, sliding one to Leila in the hopes it will relax her.

Taking a sip, she steels her nerves. "About a week ago," she answers. "I've gotten a job at a local art gallery and she found me there."

"What did she say?" I ask briskly.

"That she knows..." She flushes, looking away briefly. "She knows what I did last year and that if I wanted a chance to get back into your life, she could help. She said that the girl you are with now isn't right for you, but she thought I might be, so if I helped her..." She shrugs.

"If you helped her, the prize would be me," I finish bitterly. "Elena Lincoln is the cause of several problems in my life right now, Leila, and she is not to be trusted under any circumstances."

Leila nods quickly. "Yes, sir, I know," she says. "I never agreed to help. I'd hoped that if I ignored her attempts to reach me, she'd give up. When it didn't, I did what you told me to do—I called Dr. Flynn. I thought you needed to know about this."

"Yes, I do," I agree. "And you did the right thing. Do you know where Elena is now?"

She shakes her head. "I haven't heard from her since late last night."

"How did she contact you?"

She hesitates a moment, then reaches into her purse for her cell phone. I wait with strained patience as she searches for something, and then hands it to me. I shoot her a warning look when she intentionally let's her fingers graze mine. I know what that touch means and I have no interest in pursuing it for any reason. Looking back down at the phone, I see several text messages from Elena's phone number, the last telling Leila to just wait patiently. As I read it, I know what it's really saying—be patient; Mr. Grey will fall for this plan very soon. _Fuck me..._ I'm playing into Elena's hands. I knew it might be a possibility, but that doesn't make it any easier to take. The only comfort I have right now is that Leila hasn't intentionally pulled me into it; I can see in her eyes that she's being absolutely honest right now.

"I'll be in town for at least the night," I say, handing Leila back her phone. "If Elena contacts you again in that time, you're to tell me immediately." I reach into my wallet for a business card. "Is that understood?"

She nods. "Yes, Mr. Grey," she replies, tucking the card into her purse.

"Good. I have to go, but if you'd like to remain here to have something to eat, feel free. The bill is prepaid."

I vaguely hear Leila thank me as I turn to leave the restaurant, glancing over to find Ryan and Reynolds standing to follow me. On the ride back to the hotel, I think over our conversation. Leila didn't tell me anything I couldn't have worked out, and I'm still not convinced there isn't more to the story. Elena wouldn't use Leila as a pawn in whatever game she's playing by dismissing her when Leila tried to ignore her. Undoubtedly, the ultimate goal is to catch my attention, trick me into a meeting. Elena knows me well enough to know I wouldn't be able to ignore my curiosity and not investigate the hell out of it. And I know her well enough to know she's not going to give up until she gets whatever it is she wants.

Growling, I stalk into my suite, unceremoniously dropping my jacket on a chair and kicking off my shoes. I'm tempted to say fuck it all, go back to Seattle, grab Ana and Caleb, and move somewhere new just so we can have the chance at a calmer life. These problems will follow us, though, no matter how far we go. I need this shit sorted quickly. With Ana being pregnant, my priority is to ensure it goes as smoothly as possible. I haven't forgotten even the tiniest of details of what she went through with Caleb—between what she and Kate have told me, and the medical records I had pulled, I've worked out enough to know the circumstances were dire at some points. I don't want Ana to be stressed out and worried that someone is still trying to hurt or destroy us. She needs me to take care of her and I want that more than anything.

First, though, I need to fix this mess.

At the knock on my door, I scowl. Right now I just want to sleep, having not done so nearly often enough in the last week or two. I yank the door open, intending to chew out whoever has the balls to bother me. But that intention evaporates the moment I see that person. I'm not sure if I'm more surprised or angry right now, though I'm leaning towards anger.

"What the fuck do you want, Elena?" I growl.


	38. Chapter 38

"Really, Christian," Elena admonishes, smiling at me. How did I never notice her teeth seem to have been sharpened almost to the point that they look like fangs? "Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"Perhaps not," I agree coolly, "but as you and I are no longer friends, I feel it was an appropriate response, so I'll repeat myself: What the fuck do you want?"

Elena's eyes darken and I watch as she straightens her posture, squaring her shoulders and standing taller—I used to find this intimidating and beyond arousing, but as I've finally begun to see her the way Anastasia and my mother do, I find her pathetic. For the first time in probably ever, she isn't as put together as she normally is. The blood red polish on her fingernails is chipped. Her hair isn't plastered down by her usual can of hairspray, and she seems to be missing an earring. A few months ago, this would have been cause for concern for her wellbeing. Now, though, I see right through her ploy. If she looks as though she needs my help, surely I'll give in like I always have when she's involved. But she doesn't know me nearly as well as she likes to think she does. Not anymore, anyway.

"Cut the shit, Elena," I growl. "I'm not in the mood. You got what you wanted; I'm out of Seattle, so why don't you tell me exactly what this is about." For a moment, I consider alerting Ryan and Reynolds, and having them drag her out of this hotel, but I shelf that thought for now. This is an opportunity to find out what the fuck Elena is up to and I'd be a fool to let it slip away. Besides, I'm bigger than she is and I would have no trouble overpowering her if it gets to that point.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" she asks tartly, frowning in disapproval over my lack of manners.

I sigh. "No, Elena, I'm not. I have no desire to be behind closed doors with you now or anytime in the future."

She smirks. "What's the matter, Christian? Afraid I'll remind you of what you're missing out on with that mousy little thing you have at home? The one who couldn't handle your needs the way..." Her smirk widens and her eyes darken, this time in lust rather than anger. It's nauseating. "Well, the way some others could."

Of course she's referring to herself and offering herself up to me, expecting me to take the bait she left out so often for me in the past. Well, times change. "First of all, I've told you before: you and I are over—that includes professionally and especially personally. Next, I'm not missing out on a fucking thing. It took my whole life to figure out that there is more to my existence than the sick shit you showed me. You made me think I couldn't love anybody and that nobody would or could love me because of my fucked up past. And maybe that wasn't entirely a bad thing—I had believed differently when I was younger, I might have met somebody and missed out on meeting Anastasia entirely. That's something I wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

"Which brings me to my last point..." I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly in an attempt to control the rage building up inside me. "I've asked you numerous times—trying to be nice about it because we were friends. When that didn't work, I pleaded and threatened. Yet you still don't fucking get it, do you? I don't know what your endgame with Linc is, but it's over, Elena. He's in jail and he's not fucking going anywhere. But in the spirit of old times, I'll say this once more and I suggest you listen for a change: I love Anastasia and I love my son, and they love me. I will do whatever it takes to keep them safe. If that means taking out anyone who stands in my way, I will do it without a second thought. Is that clear?"

"Love?" she scoffs in disgust. I roll my eyes over the fact that she ignored every other thing I said to her. "What could you possibly know about love, Christian? It's a fool's emotion."

"Maybe it is. And before Ana, I knew nothing about it," I answer honestly, "and I'm still not convinced I'm doing it right a lot of the time, but there is no doubt in my mind I know a fuck load more about it than you ever will."

For a second, she just stares at me as though I've slapped her, then the expression is gone, replaced by a coldness I'm not accustomed to from Elena. "You're making a mistake, Christian," she sneers.

"Am I?" I mutter dismissively. "I'll take my chances. I'm done playing the nice guy, Elena, trying to appease the people in my life who don't actually give a shit about me. This will be the last time I see you. I don't want you calling, texting, e-mailing, sending messages through other people. I don't want to see you or hear about you. And if you come near me or any member of my family again, I will not be responsible for my actions."

Again, she doesn't seem fazed by my words. "That's mighty big of you, Christian. Let's talk some more about your little Anastasia; how do you think she'll react if she finds out about our little... indiscretion last year?"

I frown. "What the fuck are you talking about?" I ask.

Her smile returns, making her look predatory. "Oh, you don't remember, do you?" she asks, sounding delighted. "I'd be offended if I didn't recall how drunk you were that night..."

"What night?" I snap.

"The night you came to me, of course," she says huskily. She tries to take a step forward, to reach out and touch me, but I step backwards, making it clear I don't want her anywhere near me. "Oh, you were desperate to forget all about the girl who broke your heart. You cried on my shoulder for quite some time, and then you kissed me."

I freeze. "Bullshit," I whisper, horrified. I search my brain for any inkling that what she's telling me is the truth and I come up with nothing. But there is no fucking way that happened.

"Afraid not," she replies briskly. "So perhaps we should see just how strong this love really is; will Anastasia still love you if she knows you were all over me?"

"Even if it were true, yes, Ana would still love me," I say certainly.

"You think so?" Elena asks thoughtfully. "And the submissives you contracted while she was away? Does she know about them."

"Yes. She also knows nothing happened with them."

Elena actually laughs. "And she believed that?" she says incredulously. "God, Christian, how naïve is this girl?"

I've never been the slightest bit inclined to hit a woman outside of my playroom or a scene, but right now, that's the only outcome I see to this. "Fuck you," I say coldly. "Leave, Elena. I'm not asking again."

In an example of perfect timing, the door beside my room opens. Reynolds steps out and freezes, looking between Elena and me uncertainly. "Reynolds, would you please escort Mrs. Lincoln downstairs? She's worn out her welcome."

As the elevator doors close on Elena and Reynolds, and Elena gives me one last smirk, my mind is reeling. What the fuck was she talking about? I have no recollection of kissing her; even if I was blind drunk, you'd think I'd remember something. Maybe she's fucking with my head, bluffing. She's played enough games over the years that I wouldn't put it past her. Either way, I know I have to warn Anastasia in case Elena makes good on announcing this alleged indiscretion.

Right on time, my phone rings and I smile at the little picture of Ana and Caleb I have set to display when she calls me. "Hi, baby," I murmur, closing my room door and heading to sit on the couch. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," she answers. "Restless and eager to get out of here, though."

I chuckle. "I can imagine," I say sympathetically. "I miss you."

"You've barely been gone a day," she teases. I can hear her grinning at me. "But I miss you, too."

"Glad to hear it."

We're quiet for a minute while I try to think of the best way to tell her what just happened. "How did it go with Leila?" she asks reluctantly. "Did you find out anything?"

I sigh. "Nothing particularly useful," I answer honestly. "But something has come from this trip."

"Oh?"

I close my eyes tightly, pinching the skin between my eyebrows to help ward off a headache. "Ana, there's no easy way to say it, but Elena was just here. At my hotel room."

The shocked silence goes on for so long that I think she might have hung up on me. "What did she want?" she breathes with trepidation.

"I didn't let her in," I reassure her quietly. "She was in the hall the whole time. As for what she wanted... Well, honestly, I'm not entirely sure. My best guess is psychological warfare. She wanted to fuck with my head. And unfortunately, I think she got exactly what she wanted."

"How so?" Ana asks. Her tone is calm, but I can almost feel the tension through the phone line.

Sighing heavily, I lean back on the couch, staring straight up to the ceiling. "Look, there's one thing she said to me before I told Reynolds to get rid of her and I honestly don't know if it's the truth or another lie. If it's the former, I swear to you, I have no recollection of it happening. I would have told you..."

"Told me what?" she whispers fearfully.

I swallow hard, desperately hoping this conversation doesn't set us back another hundred steps—not when things were starting to look up again. "Elena claims that I kissed her at some point in the last year. She says I was drunk and showed up at her house, and made a move on her." I say it as quickly as possible, thinking it might sound better that way. It doesn't. "I really don't remember that happening, Ana," I whisper when she doesn't reply. "Baby, please, say something."

"Why would she say that if it wasn't true?" she asks.

Fuck... "To make things worse," I say, my voice cracking. "To make you doubt me."

She doesn't speak, doesn't make even the slightest sound, and I'm starting to get terrified. Finally, she takes a deep breath. "I trust you," she whispers. "Even if it's true, it's not like we were together when it happened, right? And if you were drunk..." She trails off. I can almost see her shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. I know you were telling the truth about your submissives and I don't believe you'd have slept with... _her_ if you didn't with them."

"You believe me?" I ask incredulously. "Really?"

"Yes, Christian, really. We've been through too much for me to not believe you."

If I were standing right now, my knees would have buckled and I would be on the floor. "Thank you," I whisper. "Ana, I'm coming home and we're going to forget this entire mess."

"I'd like that," she replies.

I've got a stupid grin on my face at the tentative eagerness in her voice. "Me, too, baby. How are our babies?"

Just like that, the tension is lifted—certainly not forgotten, but pushed aside for the moment. We talk for a few minutes until I hear her falling asleep. I smile softly at her murmured _I love you_ and manage to return the words just before the line goes dead.

* * *

The more I think about it, the more I'm beginning to wonder if Elena was telling the truth about our supposed kiss last year. There were times I was so drunk I couldn't remember my name, let alone anything I did during those times. Drinking hasn't been something I've done in excess since I was a teenager. It had a tendency to make me unpredictable and sometimes volatile—one of the reasons Elena was so adamant in getting me to quit. But when Ana left, I stopped caring; all I wanted to do was forget and numb the pain, and that was the best way to do it at the time. I also know there were times when I sought comfort or just a distraction from Elena, and just about every time, we discussed Anastasia in some manner. The only time I can think of when something could have happened is when I was at my very lowest point, right before I dragged myself back to my therapy sessions with Flynn and tried to regain control over myself and my life.

Unbidden as I stare up at the ceiling, a thought crosses my mind, though it feels more like a dream. It wouldn't have been the first time I dreamed of Ana after she left, doing all the things with her I wanted to do, reliving some of our more memorable times. I can remember sitting with Ana, telling her how much I missed her and wanted her back, but every time I looked at her, she was fading away before my eyes. I took the opportunity before she disappeared completely, and leaned in to kiss her deeply, but I woke up in the middle of it and Elena was the one sitting beside me. Could it be possible that I was so drunk that I somehow mistook Elena for Anastasia? I remember thinking Ana tasted different, felt different than I remembered, and I said her name just before the scene changed. I also remember being sick, quite possibly all over Elena, her couch, and a very expensive rug under our feet.

Well, if it was real, at least there's a bright side to it. Whatever happens, I've finally gotten it through my head that I can't keep things from Ana. It's better for her if she hears things directly from me rather than somebody else. Vaguely, I wonder if there will ever come a time when something in my past doesn't come back to bite me in the ass.

I still don't know quite what to do about Elena. After my call with Ana, I contacted my lawyer who then contacted Seattle PD who has been looking for Elena since Joe Battaglia made good on his word to turn in whatever evidence he possessed that proved Elena to be one of Linc's accomplices. They're involving the local police department here to locate her, but I don't have high hopes. Elena got what she wanted from Connecticut—she got my attention—and now that's done, she'll probably head back to Seattle to see how much trouble she can cause.

More reason to get home as soon as possible...

* * *

Nothing eventful happens by the time I board my plane for the flight home. I spoke with Ana on the way, warned her of the possibility Elena might not be done harassing us, and she took it much better than I expected. Perhaps that reaction was a result of me also telling her there is something we need to talk about. I didn't want to be on the other side of the country when I told her about the memory or dream or whatever it was regarding Elena. I need to be with her, to see her reaction and to keep her from possibly running if she takes it as badly as I fear she might.

It's not until we land in Seattle in the early evening that all hell breaks loose. I managed to keep myself distracted during the flight with work and I'm organizing all my paperwork and laptop in my bag when Ryan approaches me with a grim expression.

"What is it?" I ask warily.

"Sir, there's been an incident at the hospital," he says quietly, glancing down at his cell phone as it pings with an incoming message. Immediately I'm on high alert. "I don't have all the details just yet, but..."

"Ana?" I ask sharply. "Caleb?"

He's reluctant to answer, but that's all I need to know. "Reynolds is on the phone with Taylor now." He gestures towards the front of the plane as the door is opened.

I nod, grabbing my things and chasing after Reynolds.

"ETA around fifteen minutes, T," Reynolds says, ending his call when I reach him.

"Well?"

"A shooting," Reynolds says, leading the way down the stairs to where a car is waiting for us. "Outside the hospital in the parking lot. One dead; the suspect slipped away before anyone could apprehend him. Taylor is in the process of pulling CCTV footage to get a better idea of what happened."

Once in the car, I dial Ana's cell phone, but it goes straight to voicemail. Cursing, I try the direct number to her hospital room, getting a busy signal. "Fuck!" I exclaim, trying Taylor next. Thankfully he picks up on the first ring. "What the fuck is going on! Why can't I reach Ana?"

Taylor sighs on the other end. "She's safe, Mr. Grey," he assures me. "She and Caleb both. The moment I got word, I sent her to your parents' home in Bellevue with your mother and brother. I didn't even have the opportunity to tell her what was going on."

My entire body relaxes significantly. "The shooting in the parking lot... Was it related?" I ask briskly.

"Yes. But for once, I don't think your family was the primary target."

"The victim?"

I can hear the hesitation in his silence. "The victim was Elena Lincoln, sir," he says quietly.

I nearly drop my phone in the shock. "What?" I gasp incredulously. "How the fuck is that even possible? She was in Connecticut last night!"

"Still working to sort out the details, but I'm going to take my chances and say she caught a flight back to Seattle shortly after leaving you," Taylor says. "She was twice shot in the chest—one bullet hit her heart—and she was dead before hitting the ground."

How am I supposed to respond to that? I wanted her out of our lives and I would have gone to extreme lengths to keep her out, but I never actually wished her dead. "Is there an identity on the suspect yet?" I ask quietly, processing.

"We're waiting on confirmation, but early reports and eye witness descriptions suggest it may have been Joe Battaglia."


	39. Chapter 39

The moment the SUV's tires begin to squeal to stop, I've thrown open the backdoor and jump out before the brakes are on and run up to the front door. I don't bother with the usual pleasantries of knocking and waiting for someone to let me in; I burst through the door, scanning the downstairs for my family.

"Ana!"

I stumble backwards suddenly as someone jumps from around a corner. "Jesus, Elliot! Are you insane?" I shout at my brother whose eyes widen at the sight of me as he lowers the baseball bat he's carrying. "Really?"

"Sorry," he mutters, shrugging.

Shaking my head at him, I look towards the kitchen. "Where are Ana and Caleb?" I ask him.

"With Mom," he assures me, setting the bat down against a table. "We weren't really sure what was going on—Taylor was more focused on getting us out of the hospital... What the fuck happened?"

"I'm not entirely sure," I say quietly, following Elliot down the hall. I spot Ana sitting at the kitchen island across from my mother, Caleb and his car seat on top. They look up when we enter and I see utter relief in Ana's eyes, a feeling I'm certain to be mirroring right now. In the next few minutes, the only thing I'm aware of is the girl in my arms and the little boy gurgling over her shoulder. Explanations can wait; I need to know we really are here together.

Looking more confused than afraid, Ana sits down beside me on a stool, allowing me to grip her hand tightly. "What the hell is going on?" she asks.

I sigh, finding Grace looking at me expectantly as well. Elliot joins us, without his damn baseball bat, and I know I'm not going to be able to put this off for long. "As I understand it," I begin slowly, "there was a shooting outside the hospital this afternoon. Taylor's priority was to evacuate you and Caleb just in case." I dart my gaze to Ana.

"This is something related to you, isn't it?" Elliot asks, his tone more good-natured than annoyed. "And here I thought you were just this mild-mannered businessman."

I raise an eyebrow at his stupid grin, making him chuckle. Ana's lips twitch and my mother's eyes roll. All three of them are too aware that I am anything but mild-mannered. A second later, I sober. "Yes, it is related to us," I answer quietly.

"Who?" Ana asks. I look at her questioningly. "Who was shot?"

I lick my lips, taking a deep breath to bide my time as I look between my mother, brother, and fiancée. "I don't have all the details yet," I say quietly, "only what Taylor told me. The victim was Elena. She's dead."

Silence meets my words as the three of them look at me in shock. "Elena?" my mother repeats in a whisper.

"Yes." For the first time since hearing the news, I realize what it means for Elena to have been out of the hospital. There is no doubt in my mind that she was there to harass Ana, but apparently Elena pissed somebody else off before she got the chance.

"Who shot her?" Elliot asks grimly. This is only one of a handful of times that I've seen him looking so serious.

Taking Ana's hand in mine, I meet her wary gaze. There is no scenario on this fucking planet that she takes this well. "It was Joe Battaglia."

Her free hand flies to her mouth as she gasps. Elliot curses. Grace looks confused, unfamiliar with Battaglia. I focus on Ana as she shakes her head very slowly while trying to come to grips with what I've just told her. It's a hell of a shock, I know; even as much as I loathe the guy, I never would have considered him capable of something like this, so I can only imagine how she feels about it. It's one thing for the guy to try and ruin our relationship—I believe he did it for noble reasons, though that doesn't stop me from still wanting to beat the shit out of him for it—but this...

"Bullshit," Elliot whispers in disbelief. "Taylor's wrong."

"I wish he was," I say dryly.

"Why would he...?" Ana begins, trailing off slowly.

I look between the three of them, having come up with several theories on my drive here, but none of which I want to share with Elliot and Grace, so for the moment, I make something else up. "Joe was a friend of Ana's in Savannah," I explain to my mother. "Recently we found out Linc is an old friend of Joe's father, and apparently Linc recruited him to try and..." I shake my head, "I don't know, break up Ana and me. Maybe he thought Elena might hurt Ana and he stopped her before she had the chance." Ana is frowning at me, aware I'm not telling the whole truth, but she remains silent. The moment we're alone, she'll be demanding answers and for once, I'm fully prepared to give them to her.

In the meantime, I try to explain everything I know with the others—which, admittedly, isn't much, and I'm heavily editing a lot of it. There are just some things I don't want my mother or brother to know—like how Battaglia thought I beat the shit out of Ana because Linc probably used his own edited version about the things I did to women before Ana. Or at least whatever he knew about my relationship with Elena.

Eventually, my mother shakes herself from her shock and tells Elliot, Ana, and me that we_ will_ be staying for dinner, and Kate, Mia, and Ethan will be joining us. Elliot and I both know better than to argue with that particular tone of voice and we actually grin at one another before Ana and I excuse ourselves, citing that I need a shower and that Ana needs to rest. Judging by the snicker from Elliot, he doesn't believe we're telling the truth, but I honestly don't give a shit. With Caleb in my arms, I lead Ana upstairs to my old bedroom. Opening the door, I feel myself grin again at the realization this is the first time I've ever had a girl in here.

"Something amusing you, Grey?" she asks with her own grin as she looks around. "Was this your room?"

I nod, setting Caleb down in his car seat for the moment. I'll set up his portable crib later. "It was," I confirm. "As for the amusing..." I smirk, sliding my hands around her waist to pull her against me. "This is another first, Miss Steele, having a girl in this room." I lead down and rest my forehead against hers. "I'm half-waiting for my parents to burst in to tell us to leave the door open so we don't do anything inappropriate."

She giggles. "Inappropriate?" she repeats.

"Indeed," I whisper, tilting her chin up so I can kiss her. "Elliot was an expert at that when we were younger. I can't even count the number of times he snuck a girl into the guestroom down the hall—if he used his own room, he'd be found out in a second. He got caught most of the time, anyway, for which I was grateful; on the occasions he didn't get caught, I taught myself how to sneak _out_ of the house so I didn't have to listen to them." I shudder at the memory, causing her to giggle again. I narrow my eyes with mock-indignation. "That was very traumatic, I'll have you know. But maybe this is my opportunity for retaliation. I'm almost positive you and I have the combined ability to keep him awake tonight."

I can't tell if she's more excited by the prospect or horrified. "Let's just keep in mind that whatever Elliot might hear, so will Kate," she says quietly.

"Fair point well made, Miss Steele," I mutter, disturbed by the thought. I shake it off and press my lips against hers for far too brief a time. "Shower with me."

She nods against my mouth and I double-check that Caleb is asleep and content in his car seat for the moment before pulling Ana into the bathroom attached to my bedroom. Though nobody has ever said it out loud, I know Grace and Carrick gave me this room as a kid so I wouldn't disturb my siblings with my nightmares. Both their rooms are one floor down and on the opposite end of mine. I enjoyed the privacy most of the time. Mia used to sneak up in the middle of the night when she was five or six after I woke up screaming the place down; she crawled into my bed without ever saying a word and curled up with me. Having her there had very much the same effect as it does when Ana is in my bed; the only difference is that with Ana, the nightmares are gone completely while with Mia they were just temporarily subdued.

"Are you going to tell me whatever it was you were holding back down in the kitchen?" she asks as I turn on the water and check the temperature.

I sigh, turning back to her as I remove my shirt. "Yes," I answer. "But can we do this after the shower? Just for the moment, I want to forget everything and lose myself in you." I don't let her respond as I kiss her again, easily slipping her shirt and jeans off. "How's your head, baby?"

"It's okay," she breathes, tilting her head to the side so I can kiss her neck.

I nod, glancing at the bandage covering her head. "We're going to have to be creative with this," I murmur, unhooking her bra. Before it hits the floor, I'm sliding her panties down. "We can't let those stitches get wet, can we?"

After getting rid of the rest of my clothes, I carefully guide Ana into the shower, closing the door behind us. Neither of us speaks as I grab a washcloth and pour a little body wash on it, lathering it up and carefully, reverently, begin washing Ana. I take special care with her breasts, trying not to groan as her nipples harden. I'm dying to take one in my mouth, but that would put an end to this seduction and I enjoy taking care of her like this. And I love that she lets me.

I move on to her arms, under arms, down her ribs, then I drop to my knees in front of her, looking up at her and her hooded expression. Smirking inwardly, I move the washcloth down one leg then the other. Once I'm done, I turn her around by her hips so I can do her back. When I finally stand again, she is covered with soap. I reach behind and above me for the detachable showerhead and carefully begin to rinse her off. Of course I can't resist teasing her a little with the stream of water between her legs. She gasps, grabbing onto my shoulders to keep herself upright. She groans in protest when I stop, but I ignore it for the moment, sliding the showerhead back into its spot above us and hand her the washcloth I used to clean her body.

"My turn," I whisper when she just looks at me uncertainly. I'm smirking again, knowing I forced every thought out of her head with that stream of water.

She starts with my arms, but hesitates to touch my chest—my forbidden zone. We've made great strides with getting me over my haphephobia. I don't have a panic attack every time her hands wander during sex or just in general. Both Ana and Caleb have been a factor in that. I've started to really enjoy holding my son against my chest and I think he enjoys it too. I never would have been able to do that with anybody just a few months ago. Ana is looking at me with big eyes, waiting for me to either tell her no to washing the rest of me or to allow her. I want her touch everywhere. Gently, I grab her hand with the washcloth and step towards her until her palm is flat on my chest. "Please," I whisper, feeling my heartbeat speed up. "I need this."

With a small smile, she nods and slowly begins moving the washcloth. I close my eyes and tip my head back at the sensation of another person's touch—someone who loves me and would never hurt me. She is the reason I've been able to enjoy my life. She saved me from misery and loneliness, and though I seem to be doing my very best to sabotage our relationship with my temper and overbearing tendencies, I know I could never let her go. Mistakes were made on both sides—she hid Caleb; I throw it back in her face over and over again. I know it's unfair to her—to all of us. We have to be a team if we're going to get through this and that means I need to stop trying to punish her for decisions she made that I forgave her for.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, grabbing her hands. I make her drop the washcloth in her hands, cupping her face.

"For what?" she asks, confused.

I shrug. "Everything. The way I yelled at you before I left. Putting you in this situation. Being the asshole boyfriend who treats you like shit when all you're doing is trying to make things up to me."

She nods slowly, thinking. "I know you're still upset that I kept Caleb away from you, whether you admit it or not, but Christian, at some point, it's got to stop. I hate myself enough for the both of us and I do wish I'd done things differently, but we can't change the past, can we? There is a lot going on and we're both afraid and stressed out, but we're in this together. I goaded you into yelling at me in the hospital. I goad you into arguments all the time—it's one of the things we do best."

I snort a laugh. "I suppose that's true," I concede. "What I like most, though, is making up with you."

Raising an eyebrow, she bites her lip and suddenly the only thing I care about is being inside her. I lift her into my arms, our lips fused together as we kiss ravenously. Carefully, I press her against the shower wall. Mindful of her head, I reach over for a towel hanging over the door and fold it one-handed it, slipping it behind her head as a pillow. "Just to be safe," I murmur, kissing her again.

With one move, I slide inside her and we both cry out at the contact. Nothing can ever erase the bad days like Ana can and I hope like hell she feels the same about me.

We begin to move slowly, foreheads touching as we stare into each other's eyes. She gasps breathlessly, fingers tightening in my hair. Everything else melts away around us; nothing else matters. Just us, our son, and our unborn child. Fuck the rest. I feel her gripping me tightly, spurring me on to give her what she wants and needs. Well, it just so happens, that what she wants and needs is exactly the same as my wants and needs. I push harder into her, faster, deeper, making us lose ourselves until she cries out in release, her eyes shooting open as she comes and at the sight of love and wonder in her expression, she pulls me with her. I hold her as close as I can, saying her name over and over as we sink to the shower floor, still connected.

"I love you, Anastasia," I whisper. "I know I don't always have the best way of showing it, but I do. It'll get better. Won't it?"

She nods into my shoulder. "It will always get better," she says against my neck. "We'll always find some way to make it better. And I love you, too, Christian, so very much."

* * *

After our shower, Christian insists on drying me and my hair before retrieving some clean clothes for me to wear. I would have preferred just wearing one of his t-shirts, but then I remembered we're expected to have dinner with his family later. For now, we're curled up on his bed while I scan the room, soaking up what Christian was like when he was younger. Aside from the posters, there is a cork board above a desk filled with pictures and concert tickets, but one picture in particular catches my interest and I suddenly remember the conversation he and I had before he went to New York about the reasons he did some of the things he did to his submissives.

"Is that her?" I ask quietly, looking at the tiny photo of a pretty brown-haired girl with sad eyes. "Your birthmother?"

Christian tenses and for a moment I think he'll change the subject. "Yes," he whispers. "That's her."

I nod, wondering when it was taken and if there are any others—maybe some of Christian as a baby. I know Christian well enough by now that this isn't the time for exploring that particular subject. Instead, I roll over to meet his wary gaze expectantly. "Tell me about Joe," I whisper.

He sighs. "At this point, it's just speculation," he begins quietly. "But something he said to Taylor the day he showed up at the hospital makes me think I'm right." My brow furrows, not understanding. "Joe grew up knowing Linc and Elena. His family visited them every so often and vice versa. I don't know how much truth is in it, whether he was just trying to get sympathy, but he claimed that when he was a teenager, about fourteen or fifteen, Elena hit on him. The way she did me."

He turns his gaze away from me, staring at the ceiling as he swallows hard and I start to feel sick. It was bad enough imagining Elena Lincoln sinking her talons into Christian knowing he was troubled to begin with. That was enough for me to want to strangle her with my bare hands. But now it seems Christian wasn't her only intended victim. How many were there?

"Joe says he turned her down, but I don't know. A teenage boy at that age with an attractive older woman throwing herself at him..." He shakes his head and I know he's speaking from experience. "If he didn't turn her down, there is every possibility whatever she did to him stuck with him. I know what that's like. I hate admitting it, especially to you, but that's just not something you can ever forget. Joe had a decent childhood—he wouldn't have had my demons. He wouldn't have grown up thinking he deserved every beating she gave him. It wouldn't have done a thing to improve his life the way I thought it did mine. At the time, I thought I needed that to not end up in prison or worse. I didn't see it as abuse the way I do now. But Joe probably would have."

"You didn't deserve that," I say firmly, sitting up. Christian pushes himself up, pulling his knees against his chest as he leans against the wall on the other side of the bed, watching me with wide, wary eyes. "You didn't deserve any of what happened to you as a child or a teenager... You should have been loved and nurtured and cherished by your birthmother, and maybe you were, even if you don't remember it." He opens his mouth to protest, but I shake my head and he keeps quiet. "Grace and Carrick love you. So do Mia and Elliot. And Caleb and I..." I shake my head again, trying to smile. "You're everything to us and even if it takes the rest of my life, I will prove that to you." He's staring at me as though he desperately wants to believe what I'm saying, but can't quite do it. We'll get there...

"As for Joe and Elena..." I sigh, having no idea how to even begin tackling that subject. "If that is what happened, Elena deserved everything she got and more—for your sake and Joe's. I shouldn't be happy that she's dead, but Christian, I really am. I hope she burns in hell for what she put you through."

He's nodding slowly, looking across the room towards where Caleb is fast asleep. I can almost read his mind as he imagines what would happen if Caleb had become a victim of somebody like Elena. But he won't. Christian and I would never allow that. No one will ever hurt our son. Or our unborn baby. "We were friends once, Ana, or at least I thought we were, yet I'm happy about it, too," he whispers uncertainly, turning back to me."What does that make me?"

"Human," I say simply, scooting closer to him. "It's makes you human."

I watch him for several minutes as he processes my words and I can see the moment it all clicks for him—his eyes widen slightly, he gasps silently, and his entire body relaxes. He doesn't speak as he grabs for me, pulling me into his arms and holding onto me for dear life. Neither of us speaks as he buries his face in my shoulder. I run my fingers through his hair, startled when I feel the first sign of tears falling from his eyes.

It's only when we hear Grace calling us for dinner that we break our embrace. Christian reluctantly pulls away from me and for a change of pace, I wipe away his tears, making him smile tenuously. "Thank you," he whispers, briefly pressing his lips against mine.

"For what?" I ask cluelessly.

"Not giving up on us," he answers simply.

While I slip on one of Christian's old sweatshirts, ignoring the smirk he gives me when he sees it, he picks Caleb up and stands at the door, watching me thoughtfully. "Let's get married," he says suddenly.

My eyebrows shoot up in shock. "I thought that was already the plan," I say carefully.

He smirks. "It was," he agrees. "But I meant let's get married soon. _Really_ soon."

I still, staring at him as I process his words. "What brought this on?"

He shrugs. "I think we need it. I need to know you belong to me and you need to know I belong to you. I want you as my wife, Anastasia. I've wanted it for a very long time—I just didn't know it. And I know we're still getting used to each other again, getting to know one another, but we've got a lifetime for that. Soon we'll have two children. I'm not going anywhere and I hope like hell you aren't either. All this shit is over now, so why wait?"

I'm speechless with absolutely no idea how to respond.

His grin widens. "Miss Steele, have I managed to quiet that smart mouth of yours?" he asks with glee in his voice.

I narrow my eyes at him, but can't hide my own grin. "If I didn't love you so much, Mr. Grey, we would have an issue right now," I say, trying to sound threatening. Judging by the way his eyes are dancing at me, my attempt is an abysmal failure. I sober quickly, approaching him and my son. "As for getting married soon—_really_ soon..." I smile shyly. "I'd like that."

The beaming smile he gives me is nearly blinding and I'm once again reminded of how mercurial this man can be. "Really?" he asks hopefully.

I bite my lip, nodding. "Really."

With Caleb still in his arms, he steps forward and kisses me in a way that makes me temporarily forget my name. "You'll soon me mine completely, Anastasia," he murmurs against my lips.

"We're completely yours already, Christian," I remind him.

He nods, holding me near. "I know and you have no idea how happy it makes me." We stand together for a while until Grace calls for us again and he rolls his eyes, sighing resignedly. "She's not going to let us ignore her. Come on, baby, you're probably starving."

For once, I am. I take Christian's hand as he leads me downstairs and I'm suddenly more eager than ever to move into the house by the sound and to become Mrs. Christian Grey.


End file.
